Centrifuge
by LovlyRita
Summary: Rose Malfoy has been framed for murder. She hasn't spoken to her family in over 6 months, and she finds solace within the Malfoy family. Followed the tangled lives of 3 families and their biases as Rose and Scorpius fight for her freedom.
1. Chapter 1

Centrifuge  
By LovlyRita

The hallways of the ministry of magic were still after her arrival was announced. The quick cadence of clicks from her high heeled shoes echoed as workers and visitors alike halted their daily routines to watch. No one dared whisper as she passed. Silver wisps of hair flew haphazardly around her face as she made eye contact with no one, choosing instead to focus her hardened gaze straight ahead. The entourage of guards peppered around her was unnecessary as she would not struggle during any point of her much anticipated visit to the ministry. She was escorted to the elevator, and never heard the flurry of whispers that ensued once she was safely out of ear shot.

"I heard it, I did, and I told me wife Ella that a storm is comin'," a short wizard with maintenance robes on declared quietly.

"It's a shame, after all that she's been through, and now this! Quite the scandal!"

"I've never seen the whole corridor go quiet before. Dead silent! I've been here 20 years, and never complete silence!"

The truth of the very complicated matter, however, was that no one truly knew what the woman's visit pertained to. And as she rode down the elevator to the hearing that was ready to begin, she was not entirely sure that all the details had been divulged to her.

The hall was dark when she arrived, and she was shuttled quickly into the court room, in front of the Wizengamot. Her long hair was pulled back away from her face, defining her sharp features. Though her appearance was markedly different as it had been in her youth, everyone in the room knew who this woman was.

"All Rise!" called a wizard clerk, and the entire room stood for the Chief Warlock, Alphard Hailen.

Hailen scanned the room slowly, drinking in each face he saw, analyzing any stray emotion.

"Where is the accused?" His voice boomed, drowning out any doubts of his authority.

"Here," an equally strong voice replied, standing from a dilapidated chair in the middle of the room.

"You have been accused of the murder of Nathan Longbottom. How do you plead?"

"_Not Guilty_," came her reply, the defiant sparkle in her eye shining brightly.

The woman watched, her eyes narrowed as she strained to hear the preceding. She dropped her manicured nails quickly on the lacquered table in front of her, trying to drown out the tension of the moment.

The Chief Warlock turned his head to the noise and noticed her there. Only she noticed the brief flicker of alarm across his face before he spoke.

"Hermione Weasley. To what do we owe your presence today?" Though the cartilage in her knees was worn, she stood and briskly walked up to the bench.

"I would like to know the circumstances pertaining to this murder you say happened." Her voice was calm as she spoke, as though the topic were about her prized rose garden.

Hailen's frown lines were deep as he responded. "Mrs. Weasley, I am currently not at liberty to discuss the circumstances of this murder with you. There is no doubt that this murder happened. Whether or not it involves—"

"_My daughter is not a murderer_!" she spat coldly at him, turning to face her only daughter, Rose.

"Your loyalty to this organization, to this country, is unwavering. The service that you and your husband have given to the ministry is unparalleled, and I trust that you will receive some kind of service plaque for your mantel in the near future. However, simply because you say that your daughter is not a murderer does not make it a provable fact. While your motherly concern is endearing, I must ask you to vacate the court room as your emotional compromise will further hinder this investigation and trial."

"Alphard," she whispered softly, so that no one else in the large room could hear her. "Please. I understand that you have a job to do, I understand why you are being cold, but please show mercy. _Please_. You know Rose, I know you know that she is not capable of this, she wouldn't do this!"

"Ever since she married the Malfoy boy, I'm not sure of anything anymore. Go home, Hermione. There's nothing you can do here, your efforts would be better spent at home, praying for the safe return of your daughter. There's evidence I can't ignore. Go home."

Her eyes caught his, and the room was heavy with the tension of their exchange. Turning her back to him, Hermione looked at her daughter, Rose, rooted to the floor by chains. Her brown hair was matted down to the grease on her face, and though she wore pricey robes, they were torn and tattered.

"Mum." Rose's voice was small as she said it, lacking the confidence displayed earlier.

The dark stone walls seemed to be closing on Hermione as she looked down to her feet and walked from the judicial chamber. She apparated directly outside the doors.

* * *

A morning storm whipped through the country side, making a normally easy apparition very difficult. Arriving outside her front stoop, she used her arm to cover her face as she fought her way inside.

The Weasley house was bright with activity when Hermione arrived. Her elderly in-laws had taken up residence a few years ago, once it had been determined that poor Arthur was suffering from Alzheimer's disease, and there was rarely a dull moment. Ron and Hermione had saved for years to be able to afford their home, and nearly every time she arrived home, Hermione smiled. This, however, was not one of those times.

"I've got to get it clean, must get it clean," Molly said, scurrying quickly through the kitchen with a walking stick, clutching her wand as though an intruder may jump out and steal it. Her hair had lost any hint of ginger many years ago, and at 80, Molly wanted to make sure that it was known that she was not an invalid.

"Molly, where is Ron?" Hermione's voice shook as she spoke, making the Weasley matriarch turn slowly.

"Well, I don't know, dear. I think perhaps he's out in the workshop, but in this weather, I hope he's come inside."

"Thank you." She turn on her heel and sprinted from the kitchen.

Lightening streaked the sky as the rain descended in sheets. Any sort of charm would be useless against this, and Hermione didn't attempt one. She ran through their beloved yard, leaving muddy foot prints as she went. The shed was in the back corner of the yard, and she ran through the wooden doors into a magically enlarged wonderland of muggle tools, mostly from Arthur, but some handed down from her own father.

"Ron!" Hermione called as her eyes darted between an old saw and some stacks of pine.

"What?"

"It's Rose." Like the lightening flashing outside, he was there, standing in front of her, covered in dirt and saw dust.

"Where is she?" Ron had never been one to show too much emotion, but when it came to his only daughter, he was often waterworks, bending to every need and desire she would approach him with.

"At the ministry. In front of the Wizengamot. On trial for Nate's murder," she rasped with gritted teeth.

"_What?_" he roared. "That is not possible."

"I assure you it is. She was there, in front of everyone. Her hair was just hanging there, and her face was dirty and streaked. There were cuts…it was just…terrible, Ron. It was the worst moment of my life."

"No, Hermione. That isn't right, she wouldn't…not Rose. Never Rose." Thunder clapped loudly overhead but did little to hide Ron's dismay.

"You…you didn't see her. She looked awful, Ron. She looked like a murderer. So small, there in the middle of that room. I mean, I know she was difficult in her last years at Hogwarts, but I've never seen her like that. I don't know what…what that_Malfoy_ has done to her, but she's changed. And poor Neville."

"She didn't kill Nate! She loved him! He might as well have been a blood relative! She and Hugo spent so much time at Neville and Hannah's playing with Nate when they were little…it doesn't add up! Why would she even be implicated in this? It is preposterous!" Ron's normally steady hands shook with anger. "I'm going to the ministry now, I'll set them straight."

"I was just there, Ron. Alphard is presiding, and he kicked me out. I tried."

"Alphard? Well he should be merciful! Surely Roxanne…or even George and Angelina…could talk some sense into him! Alphard is family, damnit! Surely he will let her off the hook!"

"Ron, he can't. He has a job to do, he can't show favoritism. Just because he's Roxanne's husband—"

"We've got to do something. I think I'm going to go to Ginny. She's always had a level head about her, and I can't even think straight. I need you to be strong. Hugo will be home soon, and he's going to want to know what's going on. People are talking, Ron, and they'll be asking him questions at work. And he always looked up to her. I just don't know." Tears fell freely from her eyes, blending in with the remnants of the rain.

Ron accepted her shivering body into his arms, kissing the top of her forehead gently. Through it all, he was always her rock, keeping her steady even though he felt like dying inside right along with her. Before they left for Harry and Ginny Potter's house, they cried together, fearing their daughter had been lost forever.

Rats. She heard them scraping across the floor as she lie shivering on the putrid cot in her cell. Rose Weasley Malfoy stared up at the ceiling, tears stinging the corners of her blue eyes. It had all spun out of control so quickly. Scorpius had always promised to be there forever, and where was he now?

And her mother, with that scathing look. Her father would no doubt be angry, and what about Hugo? He'd always looked up to her. At 24 years old, she had no idea what life had in store.

She thought of her love, Scorpius, who was the spitting image of his father, something he vehemently detested. He had dyed his hair deep brown in his seventh year to stop all the comparisons to his father, which happened quite frequently. She could hear his deep baritone echoing in her mind. He did love her, of that she was sure.

The situation was impossible. Nathan Longbottom had been a family friend for years, and she loved him like a cousin. She would have never laid a hand on him. A flash of lightening lit the room for a split second, allowing her to see the dirt pushed deep into her nail beds. It was so uncharacteristic of her to be so dirty when she had spent her life trying to prove she was clean.

Back at Hogwarts, she had been a tough sell for Scorpius. The daughter of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley was all but banned from the son of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. She had rebelled against the stranglehold her parents constantly enforced upon her, and it was her spunk and charm that had attracted Scorpius. Truth be told, she didn't really even know Scorpius existed until her fifth year at Hogwarts. Sure, they were in the same year, but he was a Slytherin, she a Gryffindor, and their paths rarely crossed.

As she matured, she began to resent her parents and their rules. Her mother was often nervous and anxious, and made her daughter check in with her like a silly muggle child. Her father was somewhat absent minded, and as he aged, became more like his own father, her grandfather. She assumed that their personalities were remnants of the devastating war that dominated their teenage years, and she had frequent arguments with her mother. It had also been difficult to grow up in the spotlight. Witches and Wizards alike would approach the couple and their children for autographs and pictures, and if Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were with them as well, forget about getting anything accomplished in Diagon Alley.

Rose squinted her eyes shut, trying to block the memories out of her mind. Clearly she had taken her life for granted for years, and now she sat in the tiny cell, wishing for anything but this. Deciding sleep was not in the cards for her, she stood, listening to the chains secured around her ankles scrape the ground. She began to pace back and forth, staring at the dust on the floor as she moved.

How had it all come down to this? Where was Scorpius? He had always been there, and never would she have imagined that he would abandon her now. She sat down, unable to make up her mind about what position her body craved. The rats quit their movement, opting instead to settle in for the evening. Why was everything in her life unsteady?

She heard the faint sound of a door opening somewhere distantly down the hall, but she paid no attention to it. And then, inexplicably, he stood there with his hair slicked back and a smirk on his face.

"You look like hell," he whispered, his long fingers wrapping around the bars that imprisoned her.

"How did you…get here?"

"No time for questions. Please get off of that filthy mattress and let's go."

She felt like her muscles were made of concrete as she stood.

"Faster please," Scorpius whispered impatiently. Rose made her way to the front of her cell, and Scorpius expertly unlocked the door. They stole away into the night, seemingly invincible. Before they apparated to assured safety, Rose turned to Scorpius and hugged him quickly. The wind howled around the trees surrounding the prison as another spring storm blew in, even more violent than the one from earlier in the morning.

"How did this happen? How did you rescue me?"

Scorpius tenderly brought his wife's lips to his and kissed her.

"You didn't kill Nathan, Rose," He whispered, smoothing her unkempt hair. "You didn't."  
She stepped away from him, jerking his strong hands off of her.

"Yes I did! What's the matter with you? Of course I did! I put the wand to his head, and I did it! I killed Nate! Oh God…I killed Nate."

"No you didn't, Rose. You didn't kill him. He's alive." A sob escaped her throat.

"Are you lying to me, Scorpius? _Do you speak the truth?_" A loud yell issued from across the yard, and Scorpius grabbed Rose and they apparated before being seen.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II- To France

Draco Malfoy paced impatiently in his study, waiting for news from his only son. Sunshine poured through the bay window and birds chirped merrily outside, oblivious to the annoyed glares he threw at them. He had no idea where Scorpius had suddenly disappeared to, but he guessed it had something to do with Rose. Draco could not deny the charm of the Weasley girl. His scowl deepened as he thought of the former last name of his daughter in law. She was a sweet girl, and her personality, wit, and intelligence was evenly matched with his son's, but there were days when he had a difficult time getting passed the Weasley surname.

Ever since the day he left his memories at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the magnificent name of Malfoy had quickly descended out of favor with the ministry. After he was unable to start training as an auror, he pursued the career of diplomat, much like his father had been before him. Moderately successful in the field, he found that most wizards simply could not get past his last name. The son of Lucius Malfoy surely had nothing pertinent to say.

Draco tore his eyes away from the bright greenery dotting the landscape of Malfoy Manor, and scowled, opting instead to gaze upon his wife, who stood in the doorway to his study.

"He's not back yet, is he?" Astoria Malfoy asked, brushing a lock of strawberry blonde hair away from her inquiring, chocolate hued eyes.

"No, love, he isn't," Draco replied, moving closer to his wife. He took her by the waist and pulled her gently against his body, instantly feeling her warmth. "He isn't here, and if he doesn't get here soon, I fear I will have to leave and look for him."

"Don't be silly," Astoria chided, putting her head against his tense chest. "You won't go anywhere. Scorpius is a man now, he's married, and he certainly doesn't need you interfering in his affairs. He gave us sparse details about his departure last night, but I have a feeling that whatever he's doing is something he needs to take care of." Hardly believing his lips as they curled up into a small smile, Draco kissed the top of his wife's head tenderly.

"It is times like these when I'm happy I married a level headed woman to keep me grounded. But I still have concerns about this. He left abruptly in the middle of our meal last night and never came back, and with Rose in jail for the murder of the Longbottom boy, I just can't see this ending well for either of them. You know as well as I do that Rose wouldn't have touched Nathan Longbottom, but I fear that we're missing huge pieces of the puzzle. I was not aware of the nature of the relationship between her and Longbottom, but the small rumblings I heard at the ministry yesterday indicated that they had been close as children but then had a falling out. I wish we could talk to Rose directly about this."

"Give it time. Besides, I may have pulled a few strings to allow Rose to be released early," Astoria confided, unable to contain the smug smile across her lips.

"Of course. Daphne's husband," Draco said, startled by his wife's admission. "That's why you're not nervous. You know where Scorpius is. Why didn't you tell me!" Anger crept quickly into his tone.

"Well, the Malfoy name may be suffering, but the Greengrass name is doing just fine. I asked Daphne's husband, who works in the ministry as I'm sure you are aware, to let Scorpius in. He did comply with my wishes, for whatever reason, I'm not sure. So he gave Scorpius a window of five minutes to enter her ward and get her out before he would involve the guards." She watched the color of Draco's face change rather suddenly, and she stifled a bit of laughter.

"Why do you think this is funny? I've been pacing at this window for hours, sick with worry, and you've known the whole time that he's alright! Astoria, for God's sake, why would you have kept something like this from me?"

"Because you over react to _everything_ and I wanted to do Rose a favor without involving your politics. Besides, I expected some contact from them by now, and I'm now a little worried myself, if I'm being quite honest. Please don't be mad at me, love. If you would just take a second to look in your heart, I'm sure you'll see why I made the choice I did."

Draco inhaled deeply, trying to control the wild anger that had made him famously annoying at Hogwarts. "Fine. I understand your motives, but I still disagree with your choice. Astoria, I'm trying to restore the honor of this family, the least you could do is avoid illegal activities behind my back! You _know_ how hard I've worked to give us this halfway respectable life, please don't ruin it."

"I'll do my best not to, dear, now please come to the kitchen for lunch. I made some sandwiches. Your favorite," she said quietly, embracing him one last time.

"If you insist," he sighed. She grabbed his hand and lead him down the spacey corridor of the large manor. Draco's love for Astoria had never stopped growing, and he was always very pleased with the choice he'd made to marry her. Turning into the kitchen, his eyes widened. There, sitting at the table was Scorpius. Rose was sitting beside him, her head down. She looked positively awful with torn robes and dirt streaked across her pale skin.

"My God!" Astoria exclaimed, rushing to Rose's side. "What has happened to you?"

"I don't…know. I'm so confused. My life…is in…ruins…" Tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes and fell.

"Come with me, I'll fix this." She grabbed Rose by the hand and took her to the bathroom.

Draco sat down next to his Scorpius, who had placed his head in his hands.

"Scorpius, what happened?" Draco asked.

"Dad, I don't even know." They had been fugitives for hours, and the stress and utter exhaustion of the events were written clearly across Scorpius's dark face. "You can't understand what I felt when I saw her in jail. I have never felt like that in my entire life. I just needed to get her out, to protect her. The ministry will be coming after her, and I don't know where to go. I couldn't take her to our flat, because the aurors will come there for sure. I can't keep her here, because it puts you and Mum in danger. I don't know where to go."

"Take her to the Malfoy vacation home in Monte Carlo." Draco said simply. "I don't believe anyone knows about that, except maybe some of father's old friends. It's a muggle tourist trap too, so you'll be able to hide amongst them. The house is obscured so that muggles cannot see, and it is located on the beach. You'll be able to regroup and relax here before you decide what the next move is."

"France? France. I don't know, Dad," Scorpius said uncertainly, picking a neutral spot on the wall to stare at. If there was anything on Earth that Scorpius hated to do, it was take favors and gifts from his Father.

"Yes, I insist. You've never even been there, which shows you how often we use it. When you were younger, I couldn't really afford lavish vacations, because I was so busy paying off my father's crimes. But we owned this house and the one in France, and I insist you go. Please." Draco grabbed Scorpius's shoulders, forcing him to pay attention to every word. "Protect her. Do everything you can. She is family, so don't get caught. If she murdered that Longbottom—"

"She _didn't!_" Scorpius exploded, pulling away from Draco and jumping to his feet. "She didn't touch the bastard, I swear it. I was there! I had just gotten to the bar when I saw her there. They'd had an argument or something, I'm not even sure. But I saw her stick the wand up to his head. She was drunk. Why wasn't I there? Why didn't I come sooner!" Anger over his actions boiled up, and his emotions overwhelmed him.

"Damnit, Dad, I should have been there to stop this. Rose, she'd have never done this, I know that idiot Longbottom provoked her. She would have never, ever, hurt him, but there she was, with her wand pressed into his fat head. She was screaming that she'd kill him, if he…well I don't know exactly why she wanted to kill him. Her words were slurred, and I was trying to get across the room to her. But she said that she would kill him, and then all of a sudden there was smoke and lots of light, and I know several people there were shooting spells. But I never saw a green light. She didn't even say the spell. Longbottom wasn't there anymore, and she was just left standing in the middle of the room, repeating over and over 'I just killed Nate…' "

Draco pursed his lips, aching for the pain his son was feeling. He was utterly confused about the whole situation.

"So you're telling me that there was an altercation, that Rose had her wand out and pointed at Longbottom, that she threatened to kill him, and that there were some unnecessary theatrics and then Rose was left, believing that she had killed him?"

"That's how I understand it. I got to her right after that and moved her out of the bar. She was crying so hard, and I tried to tell her there was no evidence that someone had died. Longbottom's body was gone. The auror's found us soon after that, taking her in to custody. After they took her, I felt so much despair, and I decided to take a walk. I went in to diagon alley, and I saw that…that…abomination of human flesh, Longbottom, walking around with a cloak covering his features. I called his name, and he saw me, and then he was gone. And I…I didn't know what to do, so I came here and stayed. I couldn't really talk about it. And then, Mum told me about the opportunity I had to save Rose. So I did. And that's all I know, I swear," Scorpius finished, drawing a hand through his dark hair.

"Take her to France, Scorp. I'll try to figure this out. If anyone else saw him, then this case has a huge hole in it. It all sounds a bit ridiculous, honestly. Did you think about going to her parents?" Draco felt choked as he said the words.

Scorpius's eyes flashed anger as he began to pace.

"Oh, that's funny. Remember what happened the last time we went to her house? I'm not good enough for them, remember? Because I'm _your_ son. I even dyed my damn hair…there's nothing I can do to distance myself from you, to show them that I'm not you. I don't know why you had to be such an insufferable ass in your youth, that everyone hates you so much, but now _I'm_ suffering for it!"

"Now you listen to me!" Draco matched his son's anger as he stood up to confront him, "I may have been misguided when I was younger, but you have absolutely no idea the atmosphere in my life at the time that forced me to be that way. I'm sick of you walking around here like you own the place, like your mother and I are such a burden to your life. We are your parents! And we love Rose like our own. Can you say that about your in-laws? It makes me sick that you think you have to distance yourself from me, but I let you do it anyway. I let you dye your hair that ridiculous color, and you went off to school to be a healer, for whatever reason. Fine. You are not Draco Malfoy Jr., your name is Scorpius. Now I am offering that house to you to take your wife to be safe. Don't be an idiot."

Scorpius opened his mouth to respond but was silenced as Rose walked into the room. Freshly painted nails wrapped around his shoulders, and the scent of lilac and lavender filled his nostrils as Rose pulled him close.

"Rosie," Scorpius whispered, feeling the tension glide out of his body. "Are you ok?"

"Your Mum took care of me. We have to go, I don't want to endanger them anymore." Draco walked over to Rose and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Rose, I'm going to fix this. I'm going to do everything I can to figure out what to do. I'll go to everyone I know, and I will find a way to do this. Even if I have to talk to your parents."

"No! Don't go to my parents, Draco, please. I can't deal with them. You haven't spoken to them in years. Please don't go."

"I'll do whatever I have to do, Rose. Go with Scorpius now, we have a place for you to stay until you can figure out what to do." Rose nodded, pulling herself away from her husband and hugging her father in law.

"I'm going to fix this."

* * *

A vacation in Monte Carlo usually consisted of fabulous dinners with well known people, gambling and sunning on the famous beaches. Yet in the expansive vacation home of the Malfoy family, the shutters were closed and it appeared no one had visited in years. A few minutes later, a loud pop from the foyer area changed this. Rose and Scorpius Malfoy stood awkwardly in the large house, with as many items of value, including clothes and other necessities that would stuff into a magically enlarged suitcase.

"Here we are, love. Home sweet home. France. What do you want to do first?" Scorpius asked, forcing a smile.

"Die," she responded.

"Oh, stop it. Rose, you heard my dad. He's going to figure this out. Now let's air out this dusty old house! I can't see a thing!" The enthusiasm in his voice was fake, but he would do anything for her. He walked into what he assumed was a sitting room. Scorpius heard a faint noise and jumped.

"What the hell was that?" Rose asked as fear ascended up her spine.

"I'm not sure. Maybe rats or something disgusting. I really can't see, hold on." He grabbed his wand from his back pocket and muttered, "_lumos_. He was standing in front of a sofa and staring at him with large violet eyes was a small, green looking being with pointy ears staring.

"AH!" Scorpius yelled, stumbling backwards and falling unceremoniously on his behind. Rose stifled a small laugh and lurched forward to help him up. "What the hell is that thing?"

"It's a house elf!" Rose laughed.

"A house elf? I mean, clearly it's an elf, but…a house elf? I thought those didn't exist anymore. Aren't they…free or whatever?"

"Well, your dad said that no one had been here in years. Oh no! I wonder if it's been here this entire time! Hello, my name is Rose Malfoy, and this is Scorpius, what is your name?" Rose asked kindly.

"My name is being Lurry, I is serving the noble house of Malfoy. There is being no one at this house in a long time! Where is master Lucius?" Scorpius' eyes widened at the sound of his grandfather's name.

"Er…Lucius is my Grandfather, and he has been dead for several years. House elves are free now so…shoo!" Rose tutted at her husband, walking over to get a view of the small creature. He was covered in a very disgusting looking rag, and he was quite skinny.

"Oh, poor Lurry. He's right, you're free! You can do or live wherever you want! So if you wish to go, please go ahead! My mum was on the committee to free house elves many years ago." Rose felt her heart drop as she spoke of her mother.

"I is not free, miss. I is only going free if master presents Lurry with clothes!" the squeaky voice said.

"Well, here," Scorpius said, pulling the shirt from his back. "You can have this shirt. As the grandson of Lucius Malfoy and the son of Draco Malfoy I set you free." The little house elf widened his eyes in surprise.

"Lurry is a free elf? I is so happy! I is making you something to eat!"

"What? No, no, it's ok, really. Now you can go and find a little elf wife so you can have little elf babies," Scorpius awkwardly said, looking at Rose.

"Yes, Lurry, you're free! You can do whatever you want, but you're welcome to stay here, since this is your home and not ours," Rose said, shooting Scorpius a look.

"I is not wanting to leave, I is wanting to make dinner! Miss. Rose and Mister Scorpius, I is making you steak!"

"Steak? No one has lived in this house for years, how do you have steak?" Scorpius asked, puzzled.

"There is being a fund that is being used for food when ever someone is visiting the_Chez Malfoy._ I is going to get some so you can be having some steak for your dinner." Scorpius looked up, and finally nodded his head.

"Sounds good!" The elf scurried away, clothed in Scorpius's large shirt.

"How sweet. Ok, fine, here I am. Let's open this house up and have some dinner, and then we'll talk about what's going to happen in the next few days," Rose directed, using her wand to light all the candles in the room.

There were several sofas and chairs, all facing the boarded windows. A fire place sat off in the corner, and a large diamond adorned chandelier hung down from the ceiling. There was priceless art hanging on the walls, and everything had about three inches of dust coating it. There was a spiral staircase off toward the entrance to the house, which lead up to the sleeping quarters. The kitchen was located adjacent to the sitting room, and a dining room next to that. The colors of the house were peach and bright white, and it was beautiful. Rose moved the rotting planks of wood from the windows to reveal a beautiful private ocean front view, and her heart skipped a beat.

"This is amazing. I can't believe Dad never brought me here as a kid, I really missed out," Scorpius breathed, walking out onto the deck. Rose came up behind him and pressed herself up to his bare back as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I wish I could enjoy this, I truly do. But my mind is so preoccupied with what is happening, and I just can't believe it. You promised you'd tell me about…what you know, and I must say, I'm dying to hear it. I don't know if I can wait until after dinner. You said he's alive. How?" Rose asked, feeling her husband's body go instantly rigid with tension.

"Rose, not now. Later, I promise, but please just enjoy this view with me. I need to pretend like everything is ok, if only for a few moments."

He turned to face her, and brought her lips to his. The kiss was hungry between them. He brushed a lock of light brown hair from her face and felt her move against him, begging for his touch. He obliged, and the two retired to the living room floor and made love with the sound of the ocean providing a calming soundtrack. It was a beautiful moment, and served to be a serene calm before the fierce lightening of the storm.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I do hope you liked it! Poor Rose and Scorpius! At least they can find love in the horrible tragedy surrounding their life. The whole thing is Nathan Longbottom, is kinda confusing, huh? Hopefully I'll be able to clear it up a little bit for you in the next chapter! Thanks for reading, and as always please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_III. The Daily Prophet_

The couch felt like a slab of concrete underneath his aching muscles as bright morning sun invaded Ron Weasley's eyes. Slowly sitting up, he groaned from the pain of a terrible night's sleep and shivered as he placed his feet on the cold wooden floor. It had been nearly a day since Rosie had mysteriously gone missing from the wizarding jail deep inside the ministry, and Ron was ordered to sleep on the couch in case she decided to come home. He grumbled some more as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Hermione the night before. Of course he would have to be the one who slept on the couch. After all, the slipped disk in her lumbar spine wouldn't take well to the couch, and she was a bear without a full night's sleep. Leave it to old Ronnie to bear the grunt of battle.

He opened his mouth in a yawn and stood, raising his arms in a relieving morning stretch. He did not hear the owl blow frantically through the open window, and was utterly surprised when it hit him squarely on the side of his head.

"Yeoww!" He bellowed, instantly rubbing the throbbing spot. The owl had dropped onto the floor, and it shook its head quickly, trying to forget any evidence of the impact.

"Bloody damned bird!" Ron swore, picking the small owl up off the floor. In its beak rested their morning copy of the Daily Prophet. "I don't understand why Weasleys always have the worst luck with owls!" he muttered to himself. He paid the bird quickly, sent it on its way, and then made his way into the kitchen wearing only boxer shorts. He grabbed a banana off the counter and peeled it lazily. It was another mediocre morning at Weasley Hideaway.

As he settled in to read the morning paper, Ron heard the scrape of his mother's cane through the house, and he sighed loudly.

"Ronald, dear, good morning! Has there been any word from our Rosie yet?" the elderly woman asked, finding her familiar spot at the stove. "A banana for breakfast? That's ridiculous. I'll whip you up some muffins."

"No, Mum, nothing from Rose yet. And please, no muffins. This will do just fine."

"Nonsense, you're a growing boy, and you need nutrition."

"I'm 52 years old, Mother! The only growing I'm going to be doing is growing horizontally. Please, just sit down and rest, you work too hard."

"I've been resting all night long, I'm tired of sitting. Now read your paper, and I'll be along with some warm muffins in a minute. Your father always did like muffins."

Ron sighed, biting his lip before he really angered his mother, and turned his attention to the paper. The headline made him focus every ounce of his being on drinking in the words.

_**ROSE MALFOY GOES MISSING; DOUBTS RAISED ABOUT HER CHARGES**_

_Rose Malfoy, 25, went missing from her jail cell at the ministry a day ago, ministry officials are reporting. It appears that she was taken by her husband, and they escaped and disapparated to an unknown location. It is unknown at this time how her husband, Scorpius Malfoy, 25, was able to break in to the ward and escape with her. Several ministry employees are being questioned regarding the disappearance, and aurors are tirelessly working to bring the two back into custody. Rose Malfoy is accused of killing Nathan Longbottom, the son of Hannah Abbott Longbottom, the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, and Neville Longbottom, Herbology professor at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was murdered nearly a week ago at a small tavern outside of London, in front of several patrons. Owls from the Daily Prophet to the tavern were not immediately returned. In an interesting turn of events, the Prophet has learned that there are several witnesses coming forward now, recanting their original statements of seeing Longbottom's body. His body was not found at the scene, and still has not been located. The department of magical law enforcement is expected to make a statement today regarding the charges. Alphard Hailen, Chief Warlock, was not pleased with this turn of events._

_"I have no comment in regards to these witnesses and their statements. However, Rose Weasley, regardless of her guilt, will be prosecuted for her escapades outside of her cell, and her husband faces the same fate."_

_In addition to the absence of a body and the new statements, others inside the ministry are beginning to doubt the woman's guilt. One official spoke with us on the condition of anonymity._

_"To be honest, the evidence is parchment thin. We know that Mrs. Malfoy was present at the tavern with Longbottom, and that there was an altercation. Mrs. Malfoy was angered by something, and did indeed threaten to kill Mr. Longbottom. There was a bit of magic that occurred, but no one is sure exactly what conspired. We are currently busy checking the magical backlogs to see if we can decipher what spell was uttered that night. Until then, she is still implicated in the crime, if a crime was even committed."_

_The prophet will continue to update on this story as more information arises. So far there has been no word from the woman's parents, Ron and Hermione Weasley, and they are not expected to comment. Weasley and his famous brother-in-law, Harry Potter, work as aurors at the ministry, and were not assigned to her case. Draco and Astoria Malfoy are also refused comment for this story. The ministry is investigating the possibility of aid being given to the runaways by either party_

Ron's complexion was red with anger as he stood, knocking his chair over and startling his mother in the process.

"Ron, dear? What's the matter?" His blue eyes were fierce as he ignored his mother and snatched the paper angrily off the table. He stomped through his beautifully decorated house, shaking the walls and knocking decorations from their well thought out places.

The door to his bedroom was latched, and he did not bother to knock as he opened the door and stormed through. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark, but Ron cared little about it.

"Hermione!" He bellowed, marching up to her side.

"Wha?" came a quiet response.

"There's an interesting article in the paper today that I think you ought to see." Ron walked over to the curtains and drew them back, allowing the brilliant morning sun to pour through the windows. Hermione shot up out of bed, her hair sticking wildly in every which direction.

"Ron, what is the matter with you? I'm trying to sleep in here, it's only 6 o'clock in the damned morning," she yelled acidly. "And, it's a Saturday."

Ron narrowed his eyes at his wife and tightened his jaw, shoving the newspaper in her hands.

"_This_ is what's the matter with me. Look at this. Rose has been missing for nearly 24 hours, I had to sleep on the godforsaken couch in the front room, in the off chance that she decided to stroll through the front room. That…Malfoy…broke her out. And I had to learn it all in a…in a _fucking_ newspaper article, Hermione. That's what's the matter with _me_!" The words spewed quickly from him as he unloaded his intense anger and frustration on her.

"Language, Ron! And I suppose it's my fault?" she countered, scanning the article. "I don't even know where they got this, I was never approached for a story. Someone ought to comment on our behalf. This is ridiculous. Well, they can come here and search the house if they'd like, we clearly have given out no aid to our daughter, or our son-in-law."

"Don't _call him that_! " Ron spat angrily, plopping down onto the soft mattress.

"Why! That's what he is. Her name is Rose Malfoy now, and regardless of what we think about that, we need to focus on the real issue here- our Rose is missing somewhere, with him, and we need to find them."

"I swear to God, they better not have gone to Malfoy."

Hermione sighed, yanking off her dressing gown and stepping into their bathroom to shower. The original shock of her daughter's sentence had worn off, and now she was worried, tired, and angry at Rose. Tension had clawed its way into Hermione's shoulders and had not left since the news broke. The truth about it was, Rosie probably did go to Draco Malfoy looking for support, and the thought of it destroyed Hermione.

"What? You don't just walk away in the middle of our conversation! This is our daughter we're talking about!" Ron called indignantly from the bed. He did not, however, get up to join her in the bathroom as he found the luxury mattress quite agreeable against his aching back.

"Would you just let me alone to think for a few moments, Ronald!" she screeched, massaging shampoo into her unruly locks. She knew that it was a possibility—that Rose would defer to Draco Malfoy rather than her own kin. The thought of her at the ridiculously large mansion, begging for their kindness and sympathies made her absolutely sick to her stomach. True, the Weasley household had not always been welcoming to the young couple, but Hermione had always been sure that at any sign of trouble, Rosie would come home.

Thinking back on recent history, Hermione could barely recall why things had ended up so sour between them. Ron had always been a staunch opponent to his daughter's relationship with Scorpius, believing the young Malfoy boy to be just a clone of his father. Rose had brought the boy around several times, and each time Hermione thought him to be good tempered and polite. After he had dyed his hair a deep brown, the resemblance between Scorpius and his father lessened, and Ron seemed to relax a tiny bit.

Their wedding, however, was unacceptable. Hermione never truly understood the reason behind her daughter's choice to elope suddenly one summer day, but it positively killed her father. Ron never got the chance to walk his beautiful darling girl down the aisle. It was, no doubt, a Malfoy ploy to distance Rosie from her own family, and when word reached Hermione that the Malfoys had known about the wedding plans all along, the final nail was driven firmly inside the coffin.

Still, she missed Rose's distinctive laughter and the smile that stretched across the girl's face. She missed the jokes and play that would take place between Rose and her brother, Hugo. The treasured memories of days long ago seeped slowly into the forefront of her mind. As she longingly recalled the distant past, tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes. Rose and Hugo had always been so innocent, so full of happiness and wonder. Her Rosie never shied away from living creatures buried deep in the soft earth, and she always took a challenge. Hugo was always quick on her heels, trying to best her at everything. They were her precious babies, and now Rose had deviated away from them with Scorpius, and Hugo was too busy to come home once a week.

Hermione let her tears blend in with the warm water, allowing it to wash away her pain.

"When was the last time Hugo was around?" she called, trying to mask the cracks in her voice.

"Hugo? Last week, I suppose. Busy with his auror training."

Hermione turned the water off and grabbed a towel, meticulously drying herself off before wrapping her hair.

"Perhaps we should call on him for dinner. He must have a lot of questions about what's happening to his sister."

"_He_ must have a lot of questions? What exactly can we answer for him, Hermione?_We_ have a lot of questions. He needs to stay focused on his school work, and he doesn't need interference from us. If he needs to talk, he knows where we are. He isn't 12 years old," Ron replied coolly, getting up from the bed and grabbing a pair of pants.

"Ronald, at least take a shower first," Hermione nagged, beginning her coveted feminine morning rituals.

"Later," he grunted.

A scream issued from across the house, and Ron took off from the bedroom, sprinting to the voices. They were coming from his parents' room, and he could tell already that today was not a good day for his father.

"I don't want muffins!" the voice belonging to his father yelled indignantly.

"Please, Arthur, you must eat something, you're so thin nowadays."

"I don't even like muffins, damnit, woman! I demand to see my wife!" Ron reached the room, and the scene broke his heart into a thousand quivering pieces. His mother was on the floor, picking up the shards of what had once been a glass plate carrying steaming blueberry muffins. A few cut into her skin leaving bloody trails, and she winced in pain.

"Mum! No, don't do that, use your wand, damnit!" Ron said, kneeling beside his mother.

"I-I don't know what to do, he won't eat, and he…he doesn't know me. He's always known me…" tears dripped slowly down Molly Weasley's nose as she cleaned the floor and salvaged the muffins.

"You there! Young fellow! Will you fetch me my wife, Molly? She's the pretty young thing with the smile. This old witch here is trying to feed me muffins, and I'd really like something else." Arthur's voice was thin, and he meant no harm to his wife. His Alzheimer's had truly devoured his life, leaving a shell of what once was a vibrant, quirky, loving father and husband.

"Dad, you love muffins, now just eat the bloody things, and I'll see what I can do. Come on, Mum, let's get you to the kitchen to get this cleaned up." He helped his mother rise from the floor, and gave his father the muffins. Arthur protested a little, but Ron was too empty to respond.

He brought Molly into the kitchen and helped her dress her wounds, calling her silly and foolish for picking up glass with her hands. Hermione walked in then, dressed very professionally in a business suit.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"I have some business to take care of. I'll be home in a few hours."

"Of course." Ron watched her leave, cursing in his mind as she disapparated outside the door. Of course she could escape whenever she felt the need, but he was chained to the home to look after his parents, who were nearly more work than his kids had been.

"It looked important, dear. She was all dressed up," Molly commented mildly with a sigh.

"It better have been important. Rosie is missing and here I still am, stuck in this God Damned house." Molly scolded him for language, and Ron felt more trapped than ever.

* * *

Rose awoke to a soft tap on the window of the large bedroom. Startled, she shook her husband awake.

"Scorpius! Scorp…I think someone's knocking on the window!" she exclaimed.

"It sounds like an owl," he grumbled in return, turning away from her.

"Well go check and see! What would an owl be doing here?" Rose pushed, poking her husband some more.

"Ugh, fine!" Scorpius got up from the very comfortable bed and walked to the window. Drawing back the curtain, his suspicions were confirmed. An owl was pecking furiously on the window, a large newspaper in his beak. "It's the Daily Prophet. I took out a subscription in a different name so we could keep up with the news. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you," Scorpius admitted, allowing the bird to fly in.

"How did it get here so fast? That's a long way for an owl to travel."

"Well, dear, it's one o'clock in the afternoon. The bird has had all morning to fly. Now come on, let's get a bit of breakfast. Where is that weird little house elf?"

"Don't call Lurry weird, he was very helpful last night, and the steak was amazing!"

"You were amazing," Scorpius said slyly, rejoining his wife in bed.

"Oh, stop it," Rose laughed.

"No, really. Baby, if I could, I'd have you all day long!"

"Well, you can!" Rose smiled and craned her neck so she could kiss her husband good afternoon. "Well, we've got the Prophet now, what does it say?"

"Aww, come on, Sugar, I did all that smooth talking and you want to get down to business already?" Scorpius pouted, sticking his bottom lip out so that he looked positively ridiculous.

"If you keep calling me strange little pet names, you're not going to see me all day! Seriously, Scorp, I want to know what the headlines say."

"Fine," he said, pulling the newspaper from the top of the night table. Unrolling it, his eyes became saucers as he read the bold headline. "Holy Shit! Rose, look at this!" He pointed to the headline.

"Doubts…are being raised about my charges? Really? This is wonderful!" Rose exclaimed, jumping up so that she was standing on top of the silky black comforter of the large bed. "They have little proof! This is so exciting!" She started to jump, as carefree as a five year old child.

"I don't know, Rose. Maybe we shouldn't be celebrating just yet. They haven't found Longbottom's body, obviously because there isn't a body to find. But…that only means he's out there somewhere. And he's going to be counterproductive to our plans. I don't know what he's plotting out there, but this isn't over."

"You're probably right," Rose said, taking a leap and landing on her behind. "I can't believe this happened. Nate is such…such an arse! I can't believe it, I really can't." Scorpius took the opportunity to move over to Rose, snaking an arm around her bare waist.

"What happened, Rose? I think it's time that you told me everything that happened that night."

Rose moved away from her husband. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. Maybe tomorrow."

"Come on, Rosie!" Scorpius prodded, the hot Malfoy temper rising inside of him. "I need to know. You have to tell me. Did he hurt you? Did he say something about me, or your family, or something? Please tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it, ok?" she huffed, rising from the bed and putting on a robe. "I'm going to see if Lurry will make us some breakfast. Or lunch. Or something to eat, anyway."

Scorpius cursed under his breath, taking the opportunity to rise from the bed as well. Her reluctance to tell him what happened bothered him to no end. Whatever had transpired between the two, it was not good. He hoped to God that Longbottom hadn't violated her in any way, but, then again, he couldn't really imagine Rose allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to be violated.

The house they were staying in was truly magnificent, and the bedroom was perhaps the grandest room of them all. There was a large stone fireplace, marble floors, and all the furniture was made of deep cherry wood. There was a patio door that led straight to the beach, and there was a large mirror decorating the wall. Everything had its place, and though it hadn't been used since the early 1990's, it still had a comfortable, elegant feel to it. Scorpius took a moment to admire the great standing his family once held within the wizarding community before settling in to read the rest of the article. When he was finished, he felt more hopeful than before, but he knew that there was still a long road ahead of them.

He thought back to his time at Hogwarts, the crazy days that they were. Nate Longbottom had always been a jerk around the school. His father was a professor there, and one of the most highly regarded wizards of the time. Neville Longbottom had been a member of the storied Dumbledore's Army and friend of Harry Potter, and Rose's parents, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger Weasley. Nate was their only son, and he paraded it around the halls like he was some kind of royal prince. He was raised in the castle, and as such, he knew all the ins and outs of the corridors. Though his father had a rather gentle demeanor and kind disposition, Nate was hellfire. He would pull pranks on other students, and as a Gryffindor, it was just kind of expected. Every generation of Gryffindors had their resident pranksters, and Nate was one of them. He ran around with James Potter, and they had a grand time annoying every living creature at Hogwarts.

Scorpius wondered how James had taken to the news of Nate's death. All the Potters must have been devastated. He sneered at the thought of the privileged Potter name and got up to ready himself for the day.

Rose was in the kitchen, sitting idly with her thoughts of Nate and their long lost friendship gone very sour. Nate had always hated Scorpius, even in their day in school. He had been a good friend of Rose. In their youth, they would sit around and dream big, impossible dreams. At Hogwarts, they had often studied together. She knew all his dreams, and the crazy aspirations that he had kept in the back of his mind for years. What a crazy boy he had been.

She felt like crying, but didn't, because something was lurking in the back of her mind. Nate. His dreams. His hopes. His….

"Oh My God!" Rose exclaimed, rising quickly from the table. "Scorpius! I know where he's hiding! I know where Nate is!"

* * *

Several quick raps on the door roused Draco from his sleep. Taking care not to awaken the beautiful creature that slept soundly beside him, he threw on a robe and left his bedroom, latching the door behind him. The strong knocks continued, and he was quite annoyed that someone found it necessary to disturb his peaceful Saturday morning. Sighing, he found the doorknob and pulled back the heavy door. His eyes narrowed as he gazed upon his unwelcome guest.

"You better have a bloody good excuse for waking me up at 7:30 in the morning,_Weasley._"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his childishness and invited herself inside, pushing her way past him.

"I think you'll find your copy of the Daily Prophet quite interesting this morning, Malfoy," she replied, plopping the paper down on an ornate table that decorated the massive entryway to the mansion.

"Why, nasty wizards keeping house elves abroad? Another disparaging article about the Malfoy name? A titillating article about your family and all that…_wonderful_ work you do down at the ministry?" he sneered.

"No. Actually, it's about your son and my daughter, and their little runaway escapade. I want to know if you know anything about it. Did they come to you for help?" she demanded.

"Well now, that's really none of your business, is it, Weasley?"

"YES! Yes it is my business, Malfoy, because it is my daughter! Maybe your son put his little claws into her, but she is still _my_ daughter, and I'll be damned if I'll let you keep secrets from me. Where are they?"

"Temper, temper, Weasley. And I don't know where they are. Maybe they stopped by at one point, maybe they didn't. That doesn't mean they told me where they were headed." He glared at her. "You have some nerve marching into my house, demanding things. I'm sure they are fine. Now why don't you run along and go play house with your little husband."

Hermione drew her wand and placed it on his throat, backing him into a corner.

"I swear to God, Draco Malfoy, if I find out you've been helping them, I _will_ use my power at the ministry to bring you down once and for all."

"Bring it on, _Hermione_. Bring on the big guns. I'm ready for the showdown."

She disapparated quickly after that, and Draco knew that she would return, next time with her husband. Sighing, he went back into the bedroom, disrobed, and climbed back into bed with Astoria.

"Who was it?" she asked sleepily, smiling at him.

"Just a small annoyance, love. Go back to sleep for a while. I plan to do the same." But he did not sleep, for he was transfixed by the memory of the deep sorrow lodged in Hermione Weasley's eyes. As much as he despised her, she was suffering just like him. Their children's lives were tangled in danger and possible despair, and that common link between them haunted him. She would be back, and next time, he wasn't sure if he could keep the truth from a mother who was sick with worry, regardless of her surname.

* * *

_**A/N**_ I know this chapter was thin on Rose/Scorpius, but I wanted to establish a little bit more background. It's important to understand the kind of homes that our two love birds grew up in, so you can understand the choices that they made. Next chapter: The hunt for Nate begins, Draco may reveal something to the Weasleys, and Hugo might make an appearance. I say might because I haven't even began to write it, as I've just finished this, but hey, we'll see where the wind blows me! :) Don't forget to go to harrypotterpodcast dot com for all your podcasting needs!


	4. Chapter 4

_Centrifuge_  
Chapter IV- Family

Scorpius grunted loudly as he pulled his suitcase out of the closet and on to the bed. Pulling out a pair of wrinkled jeans and a green t-shirt, he trudged into the bathroom and turned the gold plated knobs adorning the black tiled wall of the shower. He had originally considered drawing a bath in the garden tub, which was built snuggly into a cubby and surrounded on three sides by a bay window. There was just enough room on the ledge for lavender scented candles and some brilliant blood colored rose petals, which he could quickly purchase at a local mart without Rose even noticing his absence. However, his sweet gesture would most likely come off as a proposition, which they usually did, and he'd mess up the romantic part of it. Rose would get angry at him for leaving, first of all, and secondly, thinking it was a good idea to take a bath in broad daylight on the first floor of a strange house, and together, no less.

Scorpius smiled at the thought of his often disgruntled wife, casting one last wistful glance toward the tub before filling his nostrils with steam from the blazing shower. He threw the ball of clothes onto the floor, and then stripped down and stepped in. The water was rapture against his skin, and he sighed deeply, running his hands through his deep chocolate hair. Nearly immediately, his knotted muscles relaxed, and Scorpius decided the moment was nearly perfect exactly three seconds before he realized there was no soap or shampoo on the shower ledge.

"Aw, damnit," Scorpius cursed, understanding with disdain the futile and useless efforts of a shower with no cleaning agent. Dripping with water that was suddenly more frigid than the arctic sea, Scorpius tip toed out of the shower and back into the bedroom. Shivering, he reached his suitcase and pulled a small bag of toiletries from the bottom. It was at this moment that he heard Rose yell something from the other room; however, he was too cold and disgruntled to pay any attention.

Within seconds, he was back in the warm embrace of the shower, massaging shampoo into his hair. He heard the scurry of Rose's feet before he heard her shriek his name.

"What!"

"Scorpius, I know where Nate is hiding!" Rose said as she reached the bathroom.

"Where he's hiding?" Scorpius asked.

"Yes, I think I know. When we were younger, at Hogwarts, Nate, James, Lorelei Macmillan and I used to sneak away to the Shrieking Shack on Hogsmeade days. It sounds stupid, for him to hide somewhere so well known, but Nate is such a pompous ass, I wouldn't put it past him to hide in plain sight. I think I have to go."

"Rosie, why don't you come in here with me, and we'll talk about this later?" Scorpius asked hopefully, opening the glass door. Rose immediately put her hands on her hips and began to tap her foot wildly.

"Scorpius, you can't be serious! This is a break through, we need to leave now!"

"Come on. We can't leave right now, anyway. You're all dirty, and I'm all smelly, and I think that's priority number one."

Rose sighed and slipped her clothes off to join him. Scorpius sighed happily and drank in his wife's beautiful form as she climbed in. The minute the water hit her, Scorpius stifled any lingering off hand comments with his lips. A few seconds later, she pulled away and smiled at him.

"I just want you to know, that I am in this shower for a few reasons. The first and most important reason is that I want to look presentable if I truly am to meet Nate again today. It's not nice when a person that looks strangely like a hobo attacks someone with their fingernails and several debilitating spells, so I'll dress smartly in a skirt to prevent that image. The second reason is that there is absolutely no way I could stand there and listen to you whine while I try to have a serious conversation with you. And finally, there's really nowhere else I'd rather be."

Laughing at her adorably crooked smile, Scorpius pinned her swiftly against the wall and made the most of their shower.

Afterward, they toweled off and readied themselves for a trip back in to England, back to their old stomping grounds. Still, Scorpius had doubts about leaving their safe haven in Monte Carlo.

"You're sure about this one, Rosie? I think it's a little risky to leave right now…especially since my dad said he was trying to fix things. We could get in a lot of trouble here, especially if you're seen. You read the paper this morning, they're going to be looking everywhere for us."

Rose shook her head as she slipped on a pair of jeans.

"I've got to know, Scorp. I feel like I can talk a little bit of sense into him, if I could just see him. I know that I can fix this. He's alive, I'm not guilty, and I want to show him that things will be ok."

"It would really, really help me if you would just tell me what happened in the bar. I'm your husband, you can tell me anything, sweetie. I promise I won't pass judgment on you, I just feel like I need to know." His voice was gentle as he prodded her once more, desperate for the information of her predicament.

"I promise, I'll explain everything soon. I just need you to trust me for right now. I'll tell you everything. Let's just get to the shrieking shack now. And let's take everything with us. I don't want to leave any loose ends behind, ok?"

Scorpius was grateful not to have been snipped at for once, yet he could not shake the feeling that something was a little off about her premonition. Nevertheless, he packed up all of their things, grumbling about only spending one night on the beautiful beaches of Monte Carlo. Rose rolled her eyes at his stubborn childishness. Within minutes they were ready, and, after bidding Lurry farewell, disapparated, along with their belongings, to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Hugo Weasley was tired of learning about crime. The past few days had been highly uncomfortable at school. His sister was a fugitive, and all of his trainers at the auror institute had picked up a nasty habit of staring at Hugo during class, as though he would jump up abruptly in the middle of a lesson and reveal her location. When she had first gone missing, the school had given him a pass to the ministry to give testimony regarding her whereabouts.

He told the investigators the same thing he told all of his friends—he hadn't spoken to Rose in nearly six months. He had no greater a lead on the case then they did.

At 23 years old, Hugo was very tall and thin with a mess of vibrant red hair, freckles, and clear blue eyes. A Weasley through and through, following in his father's footsteps gave him great pride. One of the major drawbacks, however, was living in a world where he and his family were extraordinarily well known, especially in the ministry. It was something he had dealt with his entire life, but the connection to his sister was making the days a little more intense. It was for this reason that he decided to use his free Saturday to drop by his parent's house to pay them a long overdue visit.

Hugo lived by himself in a small, messy, hole-in-the-wall flat on a busy street in London. It was a cheap studio with sparse furniture, save for a tattered easy chair and an ancient coffee table from his grandparent's house. An old mattress was stacked against the wall, a mess of ratty blankets piled haphazardly on the floor beside it. It definitely wasn't a posh pad, but it was all Hugo needed to get by. He took a quick visual sweep of the dreary gray walls before disapparating to his parents' house.

He arrived within seconds, noting the beautiful blue sky and the sunshine that enveloped the house, making the spotless window gleam invitingly. He smiled and skirted the outside of the short wooden fence surrounding the perimeter of the property before reaching the modest gate. His grandmother was outside, on her knees, pulling stubborn weeds out of the flower garden underneath the kitchen window.

"Gran!" Hugo called, taking care not to startle her. She looked up and smiled warmly at him. He immediately noticed both her hands messily wrapped in a cloth that was dotted with blood.

"Hugo, what a wonderful surprise! Your father will be so very happy to see you! It has been quite a while." She moved to stand, but the wince on her face signaled the pain radiating down the brittle bones in her legs.

"Here, Gran, let me help you up," he said, running to her side. He stuck out a hand, and Molly grudgingly grabbed ahold of it, grunting as she got up. "You really shouldn't be down on your knees like that."

"Well, these gardens aren't going to weed themselves. Not that I haven't tried, believe me. I don't know why Ron won't allow garden gnomes on the property, they were always so helpful to me. If Hermione wants flowers so much, one of them ought to be out here doing this! It's a shame too, the flowers are so lovely this time of year."

"Ok, Gran. Well, I'll talk to Dad about it."

He helped her inside and then went to find his father. The house seemed to be vacant, but a more thorough search revealed that his father was in the backyard, sitting on the porch swing. Hugo pushed open the door and went out into the bright sunshine, startling Ron.

"Oh—Hugo! Hi son, it's good to see you." He didn't get up to greet Hugo, but that was fine by him. Hugo took a seat next to him.

"Hey, Dad. Where's Mum?"

"Dunno. She's been gone all morning. Doesn't bother to tell me what's on her agenda."

"Right. I just thought the two of you might be able to use a bit of company. They've been riding me pretty hard at school, especially…given recent events." He waited no time to broach the subject of his sister; he needed someone to understand the conditions he was working under.

"I'd imagine they are, and not just because it's your final semester. Brought in for questioning?" Ron spoke very conversationally, taking a sip from a cup of tea everyone once in a while.

"Yeah. I've had to tell them many times that I don't know where Rosie is. I haven't heard anything from her in nearly half a year." It pained Hugo to admit this to his father for some reason, as though her deviance from them was his fault.

"Neither have I, Hugo. They've taken me off the case…every case, actually, just for a while. Until this all blows over. Honestly, I've been thinking about resigning anyway. Your Uncle George has been having some issues with the joke shop lately, and I think maybe it's time I go and help him with it."

Hugo's mouth dropped, his eyebrows wrinkling in disbelief. His father, not an auror anymore? He could barely comprehend the thought.

"But…Dad! You love being an auror! I wanted to be one because of all your amazing stories growing up. And you're saying now we might not even work together anymore?"

"Now, I didn't say that. I haven't even run any of this by your mother, yet, so don't run your mouth off. All I'm saying is that they've got me sidelined until this blows over, and I don't know how long it's going to be. It's the most unreal situation, son. I can't work because my daughter is a fugitive…and I don't know how to deal with it right now. I don't mean to dump all that on you. Your mother is a busy woman, and I can't disturb her career, heavens no."

He could sense the sarcasm dripping heavily from his father's voice, but he didn't comment on it. Hugo had seen his parents have their fair share of arguments, but he'd never heard disdain that potent in his father's tone. A sudden rustling from within side the house alerted them to Hermione's presence, and she was on the porch in seconds, smiling wildly at her son. He stood to give her a warm hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume that always made him feel home.

"Why does your mother have bandages on her hands?" Hermione asked, failing to greet her husband.

"Dad threw his breakfast at her, and she picked up the pieces of the broken plate with her hands. I cleaned it as best I could."

Hermione's face softened instantly, and emotion swiftly clouded her eyes.

"Today's not a good day," she said quietly.

"No, it's not. Where did you run off to this morning?" Ron asked.

"I had an errand to run, no big deal. Hugo, why don't you come inside with me? I'll make you some lunch, provided I can steal the oven away from your Gran!" Hugo complied, leaving what was becoming a bizarre conversation with his father.

He made small talk with his mother while she fixed some small sandwiches for everyone. She asked the obligatory school questions, neatly avoiding any talk of Rose. It made Hugo extremely uncomfortable to blatantly avoid any talk about his sister, who used to paint the house with her warm smile. His mother pushed two small plates toward him.

"Would you take that in to your grandfather? I just can't deal with it today." Hugo nodded, feeling guilty for not wanting to see his grandfather. He walked quickly to Arthur's room, which was hidden in the back of the house. The door to his room was cracked, and Hugo popped his head in. Arthur Weasley was bathed in the glow of a muggle television set, which he had asked for in one of his lucid moments. Hugo knocked lightly on the door, and heard a voice granting entrance.

"Hi, grandfather. Mum made you a sandwich for lunch." He sat it down on a table next to the couch where Arthur spent most of his days.

"What kind?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What kind of sandwich is it, Bill? I hope it's turkey. Your Mum sure does make a good turkey sandwich." Hugo looked down at the floor, an uncomfortable chill clinging to the back of his neck.

"It's turkey, I think."

"Thanks, Bill. I really appreciate you helping your mother out. She's got her hands full with all those kids. Would you tell her to come in here and see me before I go back off to work?"

"You're welcome. I'll tell her."

Hugo sighed as he escaped the room. His grandfather hadn't recognized him for a while now, but that was the first time he'd ever been called Bill, after his uncle. Before returning to the kitchen, he made a pit stop at his grandmother's quarters. Her bed was made flawlessly, and everything had its place. Pictures of her children hung on the wall, and the clock that had inhabited the Burrow sat in the corner. Hugo glanced at all the familiar relics from the old house before turning to address her. She was sitting at a vanity, meticulously pinning the copious amount of frizz that had deviated in the thick humidity of the afternoon. He knocked on the door, and she waved him in.

"Gran, I just wanted to tell you that Grandfather requested that you come in to see him before…well, before he goes off to work."

Molly Weasley smiled warmly and nodded at him.

"Of course, dear. He gets a little confused, that's all. I'll go to see him, and he'll realize he isn't going anywhere. He can barely find the bathroom nowadays, and sometimes he forgets how to do little things that you and I take for granted. His magic is really weak, and I don't know that he could even do much more than light the tip of a wand. We'll be ok, Hugo, don't you worry. It was nice of you to stop in and see him, I know he misses you kids a lot."

"I miss him, too."

"Me too, Hugo. Me too."

Closing the door to her room, Hugo returned to the kitchen feeling completely downtrodden.

"Ok, Mum. Done."

"I went to see Draco Malfoy today," she blurted out, sitting down at the kitchen table. "I couldn't tell your father because he would have wanted to come too, and I needed to do it on my own. I think Malfoy knows where your sister is."

Hugo slowly walked up to the table and sat down, carefully weighing his words.

"Why are you telling me? You should tell Dad."

"I will," she said, poking at her sandwich. "I plan on going back later today, with your father, to try and get more information out of him. I just…I needed to tell someone. Of course Malfoy denied it, with that stupid little smirk and his snide remarks. I'm tired of it, Hugo. I'm tired of his indifference to our family's situation. I could deal with it when we were kids, and I deal with it at the ministry, but I refuse to entertain his apathy when it comes to my daughter!" His mother's voice was unsteady, and her color flushed pink as her rage ignited.

"Mum, please. I don't know Mr. Malfoy well, all I know is the stories you've told me growing up. And I really think you should be discussing this with Dad. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and leave. Please talk to each other." He stood to leave but his mother shot her hand across the table and snaked her fingers around his thin forearm.

"I'm sorry, Hugo. I'm sorry, please don't go. We've really missed you around here," Hermione begged. "Everything has just been so difficult ever since Rosie went and married that boy, and now that she's been…accused of this murder…and escaped from jail…I just want to know where she is, I want to know she's ok."

Her brash actions startled Hugo, and he lowered himself back to the chair as he heard his father enter the kitchen.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, sensing the heavy tension of the room. Hermione glanced tentatively at her son before addressing her hesitant husband.

"Ron…I miss Rose…" It was a simple sentence, but the words resonated as though Hermione Weasley had just made a profound speech regarding an important social issue. Ron answered with a move that would be considered by most outsiders to be a simple gesture between two married people—he walked over to his wife, pulled her up from her chair, and wrapped her in a hug. But Hugo knew it was a 180 degree shift in attitudes and body language, as the two people who had raised him with a firm but loving hand reverted back to the supportive, complimentary duo that they had always been, free from the extraneous drama of disappearing daughters and dementia-stricken parents.

"I do too, honey." The two broke apart and Ron took a seat at the table.

"Mum," Hugo admonished, hoping she would take advantage of the brief openness the two had just shared. Hermione sighed and dropped her head into her hands.

"Ron," she began, refusing to look at him, "this morning, I went to visit Draco Malfoy to find out if he knew anything about Rose or Scorpius. I think he does know…and I think I need to press harder…threaten him with some real action. I can't believe he would hide her from us."

"You…went to see Malfoy? You could have told me, I would have gone with you." Hurt flashed in Ron's eyes.

"I know it, but I needed to talk to him by myself first, to test the waters. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I do want you to come back with me though…later today. I think Malfoy knows I'm coming back. Or at least he should. He's still as much as an awful person as he was in school. "

The scowl on Ron's face matched Hermione's, and Hugo smiled, standing up from the table.

"Well, my work here is done. Glad I could have been of service, but I really have to be getting back to my flat. I've got some paperwork to do before my first field assignment with my mentor." He'd been waiting to tell them together, and any tension left in the room melted as both of his parent's faces broke out into huge smiles.

"Congratulations, son! That's big news! I still remember my first assignment, seems like yesterday—"

"Oh, not this old story again. Well done, Hugo, we are so, so proud of you."

"Thanks Mum, Dad. I'll be off now, but please, stop fighting. It doesn't suit you."

He hugged both parents goodbye, and as he was leaving, he broke into a laugh as he heard his father call out "Next time, bring home a pretty girl!"

* * *

"This is absolutely divine, Astoria," Draco Malfoy gushed, shoveling another bite of his wife's famous roast into his mouth. Astoria's mouth curved up delightedly.

"I'm so pleased you like it. I'm thinking that we had better get this table cleaned up soon, if you are still expecting your 'friends' to show up. Have I mentioned to you how unbelievably rude that is, Draco? They should go about it a proper way if they'd like to request a meeting. I don't agree with this one bit," Astoria said, pursing her lips.

"I know, love. I don't agree with it, either, but they'll stop at nothing to find Rose. Maybe it's better if they are in the know. They won't stop bothering me until they do, and they are Rose's parents. There's just a part of me that truly believes that if _Hermione_Weasley finds out where her daughter is, she'll turn her in, because she's such a suck up at the ministry. I'd believe it of her to turn in her own daughter."

"Positively ruthless…no concern for family. What is the matter with people, these days? Does family mean nothing anymore? The blood that runs through Rose's veins may not be pure, but she's their _daughter_. Don't you tell her where Scorp and Rose are. They need to be safe until we can figure out a way to fix this."

"I won't," Draco assured her. "Not in a million years."

A brisk pound on the front door alerted them to their uninvited dinner guests.

"Just brilliant. Absolutely uncalled for. I'll be cleaning this up—don't give me that face, I'll put the rest of it away for later, you won't starve! Invite our…_guests_ in for drinks, and I'll be there in a bit." Draco smiled at his wife and pulled her into a kiss. The knocking continued, the cadence quickening every few seconds.

"I miss house elves. Bloody Hermione Weasley," Draco muttered, leaving the ornate cherry wood dining table and making his way from the kitchen to the main corridor to answer the fury behind the door. The second Draco twisted the handle and began to pull back the monstrous door, a flash of red flew past him and into the main hall.

"You!" the deep voice spat, his wand pointed ominously at Draco. "You tell me where my daughter is, you piece of filth. Tell me where she is!"

"Ron! For God's sake, would you stop it!" The female voice, still standing on the porch, pleaded.

Draco was slightly taken aback, but his instincts were still lightening speed as he pulled his own wand from his robes and pointed it at Ron.

"You son of a bitch, you think your wand scares me? It doesn't! Now you listen to me, I don't care about your kin, I don't want to hear anything about _him_, but you tell me where Rosie is."

"Ronald Weasley, stop it!" his wife pleaded, not a hair out of place as she stepped into the manor. "We're here to talk to him, not kill him."

"Lower your wand, if you know what's good for you, Weasley," Draco snarled, his position steady.

"Ron!"

"Fine!" With that, he brought the wand back down to his side, eyeing Draco carefully. "Invite me in for some tea. You certainly are a rude host."

Draco glanced at Hermione, rage bubbling inside of him. His breath came in quick rasps, and he growled some quick directions to the formal sitting room. Hermione grabbed on to Ron's arm and lead him toward the room. In a brief moment of solidarity, Draco recounted the struggles he'd endured trying to prove he was no longer affiliated with any death eaters or other outlaws, including his own family. These hardships would be for naught if he performed unforgivable curses on Weasley, no matter how very much he wanted to see the great idiot writhe on the floor. Breathing deeply for only a few moments, he balanced his feelings and set off toward the meeting.

"Now then," Draco began, sitting down in a black leather chair, "what exactly was it you were here for?"

"Rose." Ron Weasley's voice was a guttural snarl, and Draco very nearly laughed.

"She isn't here, Weasley. Neither is Scorpius. Furthermore, I am at a complete loss as to why you think I've been in contact with them. She is your daughter, surely she would contact you if she needed something. I have given you no indication that she has been here, or that I have talked to her."

"They told you about their marriage, didn't they?" Hermione asked, clearly stung at the memory of discovering that the Malfoys were invited to the ceremony and the Weasleys were not.

"They did. I was not aware that Rose failed to tell you until after the ceremony. I didn't influence that decision in anyway. But I don't understand why you presume to think it is ok for the both of you to drop in on us, especially during dinner, without any kind of appointment. It has greatly upset my wife, and I will ask you one time to not do this again. If you wish to have an appointment with me, you can contact my secretary. I trust you can manage that, Weasley."

"I don't have to make appointments when my daughter is concerned. I think you're lying. I will find out why, and if you die in the process, then it's a necessary loss," Ron said, still clutching his wand.

"I will not be threatened in my own home!" Draco stood, his form intimidating to anyone but the two figures standing in opposition. "I don't care who the two of you think you are, auror or not, magical law enforcement or not. I may not have the same standing in society that my father had, but I am still well respected in some circles—"

"I'm well respected in _all _circles," Ron yelled furiously, he lifted his wand and hesitated, as though he were trying to pick the perfect curse to hurl at Draco.

"Are you joking? Have you gone completely mad? This has gone far enough!" Draco exclaimed, readying himself for duel in his formal sitting room. How angry Astoria would be at the burn marks that were sure to cover the upholstery!

"Please." It was a sound that neither man expected, a small whimper that sliced through the anger and decades old hatred that lingered in the room. Draco's jaw fell as he looked over at the source of the noise- Hermione Weasley had tears rolling down her face. It was a scene that he would never have expected from the uptight matriarch of the obnoxious family. Ron seemed to freeze in his spot as he listened to the soft sobs issuing from his wife.

"She's my only daughter. I just want to know she's ok. Please, if you know anything. If it were your son…please," she begged, her brown eyes burrowing holes into Draco.

"I have told you," Draco began guiltily, "I don't know where they are. I wish I did—"

"They are in France, in Monte Carlo."

"Astoria!" Draco's head whipped around to find Astoria standing in the hall, unable to rip her eyes away from grieving mother. Stunned in to silence by her insolence, Draco seethed, balling his hand into a fist and grinding his teeth to keep from exploding at her.

"Why in the _hell_ are they in Monte Carlo? Did they think it would be a swell time for a few cocktails and a round of cards? While we're sitting here, fretting over her disappearance, and she's on a _vacation?_"

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, looking at Astoria and ignoring her husband's rant.

"If it were me, I'd be even more of a mess. They're perfectly safe at a location, in Draco's father's old vacation home. No one knows of its existence, and they are using the time to figure out what is next."

"Changed your mind, did you?" Draco asked through his teeth, glaring in Astoria's direction.

"And _you_, I knew you knew! You son of a bitch."

"And now you know. Now please leave. You got what you came for." Draco was through with them, and he wanted to have a good long talk with his wife about what loyalty meant.

"Take me to her. I want to see her. I just want her to know we love her," Hermione said.

"Absolutely not. Have you lost your entire mind, Hermione? The fact that you know their general location is a security risk for them. Maybe you won't go and tell it to the ministry, but anyone can get in your head and look. I refuse to take you to them. I will give them any messages you would like to send, but you absolutely can not go to them. Even you should understand that."

"You are insulting my wife now?" Ron asked dangerously, looking for any reason at all to engage Draco in a battle.

"No, I'm telling her what she already knows. Go home. Know that they are safe. And for God's sake, Weasley, take a shower. I can smell you from here." Draco smirked and motioned toward the exit, hoping they would take the hint and leave, hopefully forever.

"Ron, don't, it's not worth it. He's right, unfortunately. Come on."

Hermione stood, her face devoid of all the emotion that had been there only moments before, and lead Ron out of the house without another word. Draco sighed in relief, putting his head into his hands for only a moment before rising to look at his wife.

"I'll have words with you later," he said sternly.

"Oh, you'll have nothing," she countered, moving closer to him. "After listening to them, I realized that Hermione is probably not sleeping or eating, by the looks of her. She just needed some reassurance. This doesn't mean that I agree at all with the events of the past and how they have been laid out; however, she had a right to know that her daughter was safe. And now she knows."

"Too right. I'll be back soon, I'm going to go to France for a while, to at least let them know that everything is ok."

"Why can't you just send an owl? You're just going to go to France? That's a long way…"

"Only a few minutes of travel time, nothing too awful. And no, we can't risk owls being intercepted." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her briefly on the lips. "I love you, even though there are times that I just don't understand you, not at all."

"And thus is the mystery that is woman." Astoria smiled and ran a manicured nail through Draco's platinum locks. "You better get back soon, because a woman won't wait all night, you know."

"Don't tempt me, Babe. I've got moves you've never seen," He said, twirling her quickly around so that her back rested against his chest. He ran lips down her warm porcelain skin, kissing her from her hairline all the way down to her shoulders.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen all your moves, Draco. Now hurry up. Like I said, I won't be kept waiting!" He laughed and kissed the top of her head before releasing her to gather a few things to take with him to France.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Ok, well this chapter just kept getting longer and longer, and I couldn't figure out where to stop. I'm still not completely happy with it, but oh well. Next chapter there's a very interesting surprise waiting for Rose and Scorpius in Hogsmeade, and Draco finds a surprise of his own in France. So what did you think? Let me know! :)


	5. Chapter 5

_V. Chaos_

_

* * *

_

The shrieking shack in Hogsmeade village, made famous by its former revolving resident Remus Lupin, stood as a dilapidated eye sore in contrast to the beautiful blue sky on a gorgeous summer day. Rose looked at the outside shell of the shack, awash with the now painful and frustrating memories of her youth. She felt her husband's clammy hand brush her shoulder, and his breath was slow against the nape of her neck.

They were squatting behind a large bush on the perimeter of the property, two fugitives with everything to lose and a glimmer of hope in their hearts. Rose felt perspiration glide down her face, and she wiped it with the back of her hand before turning to face her husband. The look of Scorpius' face was that of regret mixed with worry.

"This was a completely idiotic idea. Of all the places on Earth we could be, this one in particular is not ideal."

"Do you honestly think I don't know that?" Rose asked indignantly, shoving his hand off of her shoulder. "But I have a hunch. Nate loved this stupid place, for whatever reason. He'd come here all the time, and no one likes this house because of the ridiculous legends. Most of the current administration in the ministry avoid it because of the memories, and no one else in their right mind would go in. Don't you see? This was his solace away from his parents. They wouldn't come here, and he was safe from their prying eye. There's nowhere else; it has to be here."

She took off then, a slow jog toward the collapsed stairs that lead to the back of the house.

"God damnit, Rose," Scorpius swore before taking off after his wife. She wasted no time navigating her way through the broken slivers of aged wood. The door was barely erect on its rusted hinges, and it took no time at all before they were standing in the remains of a kitchen.

"Look at this place," Rose whispered, kicking pieces of the caved in ceiling to the side as she made her way through the room. "How old do you think this house is?"

"A hundred years, at least. I can't believe I've never been in here." Warm yellow sun poured through the windows, illuminating the deadness of the house, and Rose felt a reinvigorated. She took several confident steps forward, ignoring the incessant groan of the old wooden floor. It was no shock to Scorpius when the weakened floor gave way, sucking Rose's leg down into the belly of the ancient basement, but the scream that followed inspired him to spring quickly into action.

"What? What? Rose, are you ok?" He asked frantically. "Is he down there, does he have your leg?"

"No! Ow, damnit, Scorpius, would you run upstairs? If he was here, he's probably gone now. Shit!" Rose cursed. Scorpius looked at his wife, then looked at the rickety stairs, then back at his wife. "Apparate, you moron!"

As much as his blood boiled at her icy words, he followed her directions. Cursing the entire time, she managed to pull herself out of the sink hole that was the floor and examine the damage to her leg. Lacerations were the worst of it, and she muttered a quick spell to seal the wounds and quickly cleaned the blood before following her husband to the second floor.

She heard his feet scraping around two doors down on the left and, upon hearing no sign of confrontation, her shoulders fell and defeat flooded her. Of course Scorpius was right. It was dangerous and stupid to be here. It would be in their best interest to find a new safe haven and start a new life somewhere else. The thought was excruciating. Taking a deep breath, she cautiously entered the room and was taken aback immediately by its state.

This was the room they'd spent so much time in as children. And now, it was covered in moving photographs, each one more cheerful and full of life as the next. Her mouth dropped as she scanned the first few photos. In the first, Nate Longbottom had his arm draped casually around what appeared to be a five year old Lily Potter, with Rose standing behind the two making a silly face. The next was a picture of 16 year-old Rose with long lanky legs and scabby knees, grinning wildly next to Nate at a summer dinner. They were papered all over the walls, nearly a hundred tributes to the close relationship that Rose and Nate used to share.

Scorpius was loitering in the corner, his eyes fixed on a series of the unwelcome photographs. Rose skirted the wall to avoid the shredded, decaying furniture in the middle of the room, but stopped abruptly once she came to her husband's side. There, sprayed haphazardly all over the place, were incriminating photos Rose didn't know existed, of an encounter that she had hoped to never remember again.

She remembered the yearning, the pulsing need in her chest to feel his lips pressed against hers, to know what it would be like to have his hands stroking her face. He had tasted like strawberries, fresh after they had been picked, and she had needed so much more. Their passion had been brief but all consuming, a quiet embrace in the wooded glen not a mile away from her grandparent's old house.

"Rose…what the fuck." It was a statement rather than a question that slipped from Scorpius's lips, and she felt instantly ashamed and embarrassed.

"It was the first and last time…the summer before we decided to give our relationship another go. You and I had broken up and we'd been apart for eight months. You were dating Sienna Shepard, and I was…so lonely. You were snogging her all over the place right at the end of 6th year, and I just couldn't deal with it. So I leaned on Nate, talked to him about how much I missed you, how much of a mistake it was for us to have broken up. And…we kissed—"

"It looks like you did a whole hell of a lot more than that, Rose! Yeah, I was _snogging_ Sienna, but you! You look like you had your hands full without me! And you decided to take pictures, how very mature of you."

"I didn't know there were pictures! I don't know where these came from; there is no way that I would have ever allowed pictures to be taken of it! It was my first time and it just happened. I didn't want to tell you because my first time was so awful; I didn't want to think of it like that. So I decided that I would wash this one from my memory and then start new with you."

"You can't just start new, Rose, it doesn't work like that. Besides, it looks like you were having a jolly good time here, doesn't look so _awful_ to me. I thought your first time was with me…that night…after graduating." Hurt soaked into his words, and her anger boiled over.

"We had been broken up! You broke my heart! You do not walk away from this clean, Scorpius. You broke up with me because you weren't sure if we were _right_ for each other, and you were with that bitch Sienna one week later! Can you imagine how that made me feel? I—"

"So what, this was some revenge fuck you had with your best friend forever? Besides, we'd only dated for three months before that! And if I remember correctly, you were a little scared of what your _Daddy_ would think of our relationship, me being aiMalfoy/i and all. Looks like you hit that one on the fucking head, Rosie, right on the fucking head." He snarled angrily, his nostrils flaring.

"Don't you _dare _bring my Dad into this! He loves me very much, he would do anything for me, anything at all—"

"Except love your husband as one of his own, or even talk to your husband, really."

"_Would you stop interrupting me!_ I love my family so much, they are probably terrified right now, and I can't contact them, I can't send an owl, I can't even tell them that I am ok! Do you know what that's like? I'm standing in the middle of Hogsmeade right now, where anyone could find me and take me to Azkaba! I'm trying to clear my name so we can live our lives together and make a family, and they don't have any idea if I'm dead, or if I've jumped the country, or what! But I gave them up, Scorpius. I gave up the wonderful relationship I had with my Mum and Dad and baby brother…I did that for _you_. So that I could love you and we could be happy!"

"Rose, I—"

"No, you don't get to talk yet. Don't you think it kills me that we had to go to your father's house? I love your Mum and Dad, don't get me wrong there, but do you know how hard it was for me, Scorpius? To have my own mother come into the court room on the day of my hearing, and have her testify in her "I'm better than you are" voice in my honor, and have her look at me the way she did? She looked at me like I was garbage, like I was trash, like I was a…a…criminal!" Rose broke down into sobs, and Scorpius looked at the floor, angry with himself for letting the conversation turn into what it had. The unspoken words that had strained them for so long were now free, and he understood their full weight.

"So, yes, Scorpius, I had sex with Nate. One time. Afterward, he told me that it was good fun, that I was a great fuck, but then he told me he had a girlfriend, and that we were meant to be friends. That's when I decided that I was going to cut off contact with him, except family functions. So yeah, when you got my owl that summer, it was a little bit more than me just missing you. I mean, was I angry about Sienna? Of course I was. But everyone knew the two of you weren't good for each other, and it's funny how we were back together not more than a month later. I love _you_. I always have since the first time I laid eyes on you. I was just too scared to tell you until 6th year."

"I know that," Scorpius whispered, kissing her forehead. "I know what you've given up so that we can be together. "

"And now you know why…I was so angry the night of the incident. He brought up the past, how much fun we used to have. I was laughing with him—it'd been years since we'd talked like that, and I was ready to forgive him. And then he suggested we go to his place. I told him I was married, and he said 'I know. I don't care.' I resisted further, and he started talking bad about you, saying that our marriage was never supposed to happen, and how much my parents hate you…hate us. He made me so angry, Scorp, and he was doing it on purpose and I just…I just lost control. When he brought up that summer when we…when we…I just couldn't deal with it. I didn't want anyone to know, I didn't want you to know, which was wrong of me. I'm sorry for keeping it from you. "

She stared down at her feet, feeling more small and ashamed than she had ever been. When his strong arms snaked around her waist, she looked up in disbelief into her husband's eyes.

"Rosie, I love you. I love you so much. It's not fair, the things that we've done for each other." He smoothed down the frizz that had invaded Rose's carefully styled coif, a gift from her mother's genes. "I'm sorry I got so upset, it's just that when I saw these photos, and I imagined someone else's hands touching you, it really sent me for a loop. This is not an ideal situation, and it's no damn fair!" The tone of his voice fluctuated once more, this time not in response to his wife, but instead to the frustration of the whole situation being a dead end.

"I love you too. Now listen, there has to be something here. It's ridiculous that he has this entire place set up, with all these pictures, it just doesn't make sense. Where would Nate go, if he were pretending to be dead?"

"If it were me, I'd jump the country, see the world," replied Scorpius, gazing warily around the abandon hideout.

"Yes! That's bloody brilliant, Scorp, I can't believe I didn't think about it. He probably left the country, hoping he could make a clean break."

"But how do you figure his absence would hurt his parents? Or his friends and family? Why would he fake his death and skip town when he had everything right here? It doesn't add up, there's something we're not seeing."

"You don't understand, there is only one thing in this world that Nate cares about- himself. So if he's set out to do something, he'll be damned if anyone gets in the way of what he wants. It's just the way he functions, and there's nothing anyone can say about it that will make him change his mind."

"Selfish bastard."

Rose took another sweep around the room, this time in search of any possible clue that could lead her to his location. All the photos made her sick to her stomach. Who would collect all these pictures and stick them on the walls in a massive collage to her? Why did Nate care so much—he didn't seem to care when he shattered her heart and humiliated her to the point that it made her wish she was never born.

"This room really freaks me out, Scorpius. I don't want to be here much longer," she said quietly, suddenly feeling weary.

"I agree. I want to get out of here probably more than you do, if you can even imagine that being possible. When you were younger, did you ever talk about where you'd like to go or travel someday?"

Rose tilted her head toward the ceiling, biting her lip in such a way that made Scorpius desperately wish they were anywhere but the rotting old house, looking for nonexistent clues.

"I always wanted to go to Spain, or Italy, or even Japan. Somewhere like that. Where the food is amazing and the people are just as interesting. The language is beautiful and I could just enjoy my life around the culture. And Nate…he just wanted to go somewhere where he could exploit the knack he has for being an arrogant asshole. Something in the back of my mind is screaming the United States, but I don't know where that voice is coming from. It's just…a hunch, I guess."

"Because Americans are arrogant assholes?"

"No. Not all of them. There are arrogant assholes in every country. There just seems to be more of them in America…"

"Well then, America is where we will check next."

Rose appreciated the enthusiasm Scorpius was displaying, but worry played heavily on her mind like a funeral death march, slow and encompassing. America was a huge country, and she had never been there. Where would Nate hide, and what would he do? That was a long way to travel for a hunch.

"But where in America? America is a huge country. We can't just igo/i there. I don't know, Scorpius, there has to be better clues here. I don't want to just rush over there. Let's keep looking and brain storming, and we'll figure something out."

"Whatever you say, love. For now, let's get out of here. I don't know if we should head back to France, but we have to get out of here. It is severely disturbing me." Scorpius laughed as his beautiful wife rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand.

"I think we should head back. That would be best for now."

* * *

Draco stared vacantly into the dark manse of his old vacation home. It had been years since he'd even thought about the old villa, let alone set foot in it. Memories of his father in happier times began to smother him; running around in the ocean, letting his feet sink into the warm sand, his mother laughing with pride at the strong, young boy she called her own. The recollection was painful, as Draco had long suspected that without the influence of the Dark Lord, he might have had a normal family. But that was neither here nor there at this point, and Draco was pulled quickly back into the present.

"Scorpius? Rose? It is your father, Draco Malfoy, come to check on your well being!"

His voice echoed flatly in the blackness, and Draco announced himself once more. A muffled shout caused him to tightly grasp his wand. He heard the pitter patter of what seemed like small feet, and within seconds a small elf with large green eyes stared with glee at his old master.

"Master Malfoy! I is so happy to see you again, sir!"

Draco searched his mind frantically, trying to remember the name of the small house elf.

"Lucky? Lurky?" he guessed.

"Lurry, sir!"

"Right! Well…Lurry. I am pleased to see you. What have you been doing all these years?" Draco asked, briefly forgetting his reason for being in the house at all.

"I stay behind, like Master Lucius instructs! I take care of this house, Master Draco, and await your return!" He beamed, as though waiting for a compliment on the state of the residence.

"Right, well, I thank you for keeping this house in shape," Draco replied awkwardly. "You do realize that house elves were freed a few years back?"

"Lurry cares not, Master Draco. He was informed by Master Scorpius, but I is taking care of this house."

Hearing his son's name snapped him back into reality.

"Where are Scorpius and Rose?"

"They left earlier in the day, sir."

Anger consumed his thoughts.

"They left?"

"Yes, sir. Did not even allow Lurry to prepare a proper meal for them."

"Do you know where they went?" His teeth were clamped painfully together and his voice was not more than a hiss.

"No, Master Draco. Lurry was not told."

"Thank you, Lurry. That will be all."

Draco claimed a seat near the fireplace that his father had once occupied years ago. The chair was upholstered in the finest fabrics, and Draco felt a sudden urge to destroy it, thread by thread. He refrained, instead focusing on the fury lying dormant inside him.

Had he pulled anything remotely this serious with his father, the consequences would have been dire. Living in the shadow of a death eater was always a daunting reality for Draco, and his father was always quick to fall at the feet of the Dark Lord to make up for his shortcomings. Draco was forced into the lifestyle of a death eater, and the memories still haunted his dreams. His father had spent the rest of his years berating his son for being unable to carry out the curse that killed Dumbledore. It seemed like ancient history, and yet the wounds seemed fresh and unyielding in his mind. Draco was a symbol for everything that represented evil during that time, and most of the public had treated him as such for years. Now, he was finally back in a respected circle, with the most beautiful, pure-blooded wife in the country, and his ungrateful son was threatening to upend everything he'd worked so hard for.

Scorpius had always been somewhat of a free spirit, constantly testing the waters of the limited freedoms his parents wished to bestow upon him. And when he'd brought Rose home for the first time, Draco had no doubt that he initially reacted the exact same way the Weasleys did—no son of his was going to date the spawn of his oldest enemies. It was her charm that had done it; so different from the annoying bleats of her father or the high pitched neuroses of her mother. Draco had accepted her for what she was—the woman that his son intended to marry. And now she was behaving just as foolishly as her husband. He felt disappointment wash over him as he realized that once again he had failed to be a good parent, and he buried his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

Time moved slowly, minutes felt like hours, and yet he sat vigil, unsure of whether or not his son would return, and plotting the details of the exchange that would occur if he did. When the loud pop issued from somewhere on the opposite end of the villa signaling someone's arrival, Draco's head jerked violently backward in surprise.

"Ow….shit," he cursed, rubbing the painful spot. He heard familiar voices of his son and daughter-in-law, and he sighed with relief.

"iWho's there! Show yourself!/i" Scorpius yelled loudly from the other room, and Draco rolled his eyes at the dangerous and idiotic way his son had decided to announce his presence. He saw the lighted tip of Scorpius's wand before he actually saw Scorpius, and he suddenly felt ridiculous.

"I could be the aurors, you know," Draco replied coolly. "You could be on your way back to Azkaban now."

Scorpius lowered his wand and suddenly the room was bright with light.

"Dad…why the hell are you here sitting in the dark? What are you doing here?"

"I think the question is why weren't you here? I came to check on you, to make sure everything was alright. And imagine my surprise when you were gone."

"We had some business to take care of— "

"I do not care what you had to do. This is a safe house! You could have been followed, or killed or….I don't even want to know the awful things. You are not to leave this house, do you understand?" His voice echoed in the throes of the empty house. "You dare disrespect everything I have done for you, again and again and again. I've just about had it this time, Scorpius. What the hell do you think you were doing?" Draco's normally pale white complexion was flushed with color, complimented by narrowed gray eyes.

"Of course, once again you're unable to count on me to do the right thing, isn't that right, father? Always have to be checking up on me behind my back, in case I should do anything to tarnish the beautiful family name. But then, that was in the toilet before I was even born, wasn't it?"

"Scorpius, I will not hesitate to chain you to this house to keep you here. I don't care what you were doing, I don't care who you were doing it with, I will not tolerate this behavior, or whatever crazy schemes you have planned. This is not Hogwarts for Christ's sake. This is your freedom, this is your life. No son of mine is going to get thrown in Azkaban on the technicality of him being a complete and utter dumb arse!" Draco turned his back to Scorpius, catching a brief glance at Rose, who had appeared next to her husband.

"Resorted to name calling on your only son, I suppose that's completely appropriate. Well in case you haven't noticed, father, I grew up! I'm free to make my own choices, and we have a mission, damnit. Nathan Longbottom is alive, you know it as well as I do, and no one is going to waste their time looking for him when the hunt for my Rosie is on! I have to protect her, I have to make sure she is safe, and if that means that we have to find Longbottom ourselves to prove her innocence, then by God that's what I'm going to do. And nothing you say will stop me." Scorpius's voice was dangerously low, a wild animal in the race to save his mate from danger.

"I spoke with your parents today, Rose," Draco's voice was a low rumble, and Scorpius flared his nostrils furiously at his father's attempt to undermine him using his wife. "Your mother, always an indescribable annoyance, was first, interrupting my morning with her threats. Later in the day she returned with your father, the great blubbering moron, always too thick to understand the conversation as it happens. He turned his wand on me in my own home as your mother sobbed and worked your location out of Astoria. How would they feel if you left? They were comforted, knowing you were safe. I assume this means something to you?"

A sharp twinge of guilt hit Draco as Rose raised her face, large tears tracking down her face.

"Did they look well? I haven't…we haven't spoken…"

"Oh, brilliant job, Dad, really classy. Now you haven't just offended me, you've gone after my wife. This is such bullshit."

"They looked just fine, Rose. I'm…well I apologize for saying those things in front of you. Not that I don't mean them but, well…they are your parents, and you deserve better than that from a father in law. But the question still stands—you are safe here. At least for now, could you please try to just stay here?"

"You must understand how it makes me feel," she started, her voice quavering with every syllable, "to not allow them to contact me. They are a part of my life…they are my parents. It kills me, every single time that I breathe. My mum was always my hero, and I've disappointed her beyond any words I could possibly say. I have literally done everything that every parent prays that their child doesn't do. My dad…I was his little girl. And now what am I? Falsely accused of this murder, it's like I'm hanging in limbo. Draco…Dad…please. Please let them know that I am fine, that I have to do this for myself, that I have to go out and avenge my name."

Draco studied her face closely, monitoring the volatile situation with every passing second. Scorpius seethed next to her, clenching and unclenching his fists, his anger palpable in the atmosphere.

"Scorpius, you mustn't get so angry," Rose whispered, breaking the eye contact she had held with Draco. She grabbed his fingers and interlaced them between hers, tenderly staring into his blazing orbs. Draco suddenly felt as though he was impeding on something sacred, and yet he did not look away.

"I'm sorry, love," he replied simply, before shooting daggers at his father one last time. "Dad, listen to me. This is something that we have to do. We're going to go to America, we're going to find that lying son of a bitch and we're going to bring him down. Now you can either stand beside us and support us, or you can fight us. But either way, we're going. By any means necessary, we are going."

"Do you even have a clue where you are going in America?" Draco asked wearily, feeling weak very suddenly.

"Somewhere along the east coast I'd imagine. The biggest sects of wizards in America live in New York City, Washington DC, and Chicago. Rose says she used to talk to him about going to do things over there, and she seems to remember something that points toward DC. I don't really know, but that's where we're heading first. Washington DC."

"Scorpius…this is one of the biggest gambles you could ever make in your life. You are leaving this country a criminal, and you will never be able to come back until this has resolved, do you understand that? This is the end."

"I know, Dad. But debate has ended. We are going, and we are leaving tomorrow."

* * *

Ron stared vacantly out the window, wishing the shadows that jumped wildly across the lawn belonged to his daughter, coming home to her Daddy at last. But he could see the chaotic waltz of the leaves on the tree outside, the consequence of an approaching storm, and he knew his hopes were futile.

Hermione, exhausted after the trip to the Malfoy's, had retired to her room immediately upon returning home with a vague promise to talk to Ron the next morning. Even Ron had noticed how distracted and fragile she had seemed after the disaster earlier that evening. The absolute gall of Malfoy had proved to Ron that, regardless of what the ministry and the Daily Prophet thought, the family was exactly the same. Absolutely not a safe crowd for his Rosie to hang around.

His Rosie. HIS Rosie. Not Draco and Astoria Malfoy's. Not Scorpius's. HIS.

Ron turned away from the window as lightening sliced ominously through the sky. The remnants of the evening's fire had burned down to cinders, but he could still see the outline of his father as he made his way into the room. Ron surveyed the posture of the frail man as he walked. A large thoracic kyphosis had helped shrink his father's tall frame a few inches, and he shuffled along loudly as he walked.

Ron sighed and stood to meet his father.

Arthur Weasley's face was contorted into anguish, and upon making eye contact with his son the stranger, he burst loudly into tears.

"I-I don't know where I am…I can't find my wife, my children are all gone, and I…I have to go to the loo, and I can't find one," he whimpered, glancing wildly around the room as though a toilet would pop out of thin air for him. Ron considered it briefly as he turned away from his father to hide his own emotion.

"S'alright, Dad, I'll help you out."

"Dad?" Arthur repeated, trying to get a good look at the man standing in from of him. "Which one of them are you?"

"I'm Ron, Dad. Ron."

"Oh, Ronald, wonderful! Simply wonderful! If you could go help your mother to help degnome the garden, she's been on me all week about it. Get Fred and George to help you too, would you? They've been up to trouble, and I think they've been in the garage again…"

Ron froze, his eyes glued to his father's vacant smile. Fred. Ron hadn't thought about his brother in quite a while, and the claw marks in his heart that had been neatly stitched up by time ripped open again once more.

"Sure, Dad. Let's get you to the bathroom and back to bed."

And so Ron did just that. He was the only son in the family who could bear to deal with the degenerative nature of his father's condition. Arthur hadn't had a clear day in over a month.

After closing the door to his father's room, Ron decided to tip toe into the room he normally shared with Hermione. He twisted the doorknob slowly and entered into the blackness. Hermione was sprawled out in the bed, positioned dead center, just the way she liked. Her hair was feathered against the pillowed, and as lightening illuminated the room for just a split second, he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She was beautiful. Ron had always loved his wife, but it was much easier to do while she slept. All he wanted to do was slide under the covers and hold her, kiss the dried tears on her cheeks, and remind her that he was still hers forever. But that would wake her up, and then she'd yell at him for leaving the living room. Failing to get enough sleep could really cause her to be a terror. Suddenly Ron was annoyed with Hermione, even though she had not done or said anything.

He vacated the room feeling emptier and more agitated than he had when he'd entered. Tomorrow night, Hermione would most definitely assume couch duty. As Ron stepped back into his new bedroom, he gasped loudly as he noticed a figure sitting in a rocking chair next to the fire.

"Bloody hell, Harry, it's one o'clock in the morning!" Harry Potter stood with a stony face to greet his old friend. His dark hair was peppered with gray, and it still stuck up every which way.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I know I haven't come around lately. We—Ginny and I—haven't been good friends."

"So you choose one o'clock in the morning to relay this information to me?"

"Well, you obviously weren't busy. Besides, I had to cut out while Ginny was sleeping." Harry turned the rocking chair to face the couch and took a seat.

"I had to take care of my father. How did you know I was going to be awake anyway?" Ron asked quietly, sneaking a quick glance out the window.

"That's what I'd do, if my Lily were missing."

"Well, your Lily didn't abscond in the middle of the night with a God Damn Malfoy, did she?"

"Abscond? Since when do you say words like abscond? Do you even know what that means?" Harry cracked a small smile, trying to lighten the mood subtly.

"Hermione sat me down—there was a dictionary—look, you didn't come here to dissect my speech patterns. What is it that you're here for, that Ginny couldn't come with you?"

Harry looked guiltily down at his feet and Ron knew something had transpired.

"Rose and Scorpius were…spotted today. We weren't able to nab them this time, but they did lead us to an awfully odd location."

Ron felt resentful against Harry, because for some reason his involvement with the aurors at this time was a horrible conflict of interest, but of course chief auror Harry Potter was allowed to stay.

"They lead you to a location? Did you…did you see them with your own eyes?" Ron asked, his hopes once again rising rapidly.

"I did not. It was Hugo, actually. Hugo spotted his sister while on his first assignment scouring the pubs in Hogsmeade. I don't know—"

"Hogsmeade? HOGSMEADE? WHAT!" Ron roared, his face flushed with anger. "They were supposed to be in France! What the hell are they doing in Hogsmeade?"

"France? Jesus Christ, Ron, have you been keeping them hidden?" Standing quickly, Harry rushed across the room to a man he considered his best friend. "Tell me what you know. I have to know, it's important!"

"Why, so you can turn her in? You can't have her, Harry. The ministry is not going to get her. And I wasn't helping her at all…someone else was."

Ron felt the word Malfoy quiver deliciously on his tongue, but he thought of the conversation from earlier than evening and paused.

_"__The fact that you know their general location is a security risk for them. Maybe you won't go and tell it to the ministry, but anyone can get in your head and look._

"I don't want to turn her in, Ron. I think that Nathan Longbottom is alive. Of course, no one at the ministry believes me…nor does Ginny. But something is odd about this. The night of the murder, some of George's blackout powder was found, and there was no body. I can't imagine that Nate would do something like this, but he's nothing like his father. And James has been acting somewhat oddly lately, and I think he might know something. But I can't question my own son."

"I can't tell you where they are, Harry. I can't. I don't know exactly even."

"Probably at the Malfoy vacation home in Monte Carlo."

Harry and Ron looked up at the other voice, and were startled to see Arthur in the living room once more.

"Dad?"

"You said France, and you said Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy is always stealing away to that vacation home with various secretaries from the ministry, and everyone knows about it. Shame he doesn't take that little son of his, though. I really do despise that family."

Ron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he felt sick.

"Dad…do you know where the home is?"

"Dad? Which one of my kids are you?"

Harry looked quickly at his feet once more as Ron sighed wearily.

"Ron, Dad. I'm Ron."

"Oh, brilliant, Ronald!"

Harry waited in the living room as Ron dealt with his father once more, and when he returned, Harry was facing the fireplace leaning against the mantle with his head on his arms.

"That was actually pretty good. It's been awful lately," Ron admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm sorry with what you're dealing with lately. Look, I'm not going to go look for that house now. I'll need to do some digging first, but I don't want Rosie to get hurt. I have a feeling that Nate may have left the country, and the signs are pointing to Washington D.C. in America. I don't know where or why he would do that, but that's actually what I came here to talk to you about. We went to investigate the neighborhood after Hugo had seen his sister. Turns out, they were in the Shrieking Shack, and there's this room inside the house full of pictures of Rose and Nate. We found some brochures hidden in the furniture for places in America, Chile, Russia, and Australia, but America had big red circles around it, so we assume that's where he's chosen to go. We're following all the leads we have right now. I'll keep you posted."

"America. Of course. That bastard."

"Remember, Ron, that bastard is Neville's son. We have to play it safe here."

"Right. But if he's alive, Harry…if he's alive, you might have to throw me in Azkaban for killing him." Ron's eyebrows were furrowed and his heart was pounding furiously against his chest.

"The last thing we need is that. Just sit tight, I'll be back with more information when I find it."

Harry moved to the fireplace to use floo powder, since disapparation would be loud and possibly wake up the rest of the family.

"Harry," Ron said, standing to bid farewell to his friend. "Thank you so much."

Harry nodded and forced a small smile. "It's the least I can do for my brother-in-law."

When he was gone, Ron stretched out onto the couch, feeling every knot in his back whine furiously at him, and he pulled the dirty patchwork quilt up to his ears. Rose had an ally in the ministry—perhaps his baby girl would be alright.

* * *

_A/N: hey guys! Well, this is currently the last chapter I have written on this story, so unfortunately updates won't be as frequent. i have about 2000 words of the next chapter done, and we'll get to see a little bit of the conversation that took place between Hugo and Harry before Harry came to see Ron here. I apologize if there are any random points in the story where there are i's before and after certain words. For my fics at HPFF, i write my html into the actual word document for an easier transition, and it of course complicates matters here :) _

_Thanks so much for reading, and please review! _


	6. Chapter 6

VI. Pain

Hugo Weasley was pissed off. Of all the atrocities that could have possibly occurred on his first assignment, it had never crossed his mind that he'd end up here. The chair in his supervisor's office felt like more of a death trap as he angrily recalled the previous day's harrowing events.

* * *

He'd been on his first field assignment with his mentor John Knight, responding to an owl regarding some dark magical activity at one of the pubs in Hogsmeade. In charge of questioning the lead witness, he'd been on top of his game, making sure no stray piece of his case was left straggling. Knight had commented that he was impressed with his interviewing skills and his ability to stay calm and collected even after the witness broke down over some personal family heirlooms that had been stolen by the "dark wizard."

They'd been wrapping up the case, getting ready to grab a bite to eat before returning to the office, when he'd seen her. The flash of brown curls flying as her emaciated frame darted across the wild grasses near the Shrieking Shack. Her husband, tall and muscular, trailed behind her, his head whipping around in all directions to make sure they were not being seen.

"Rose…ROSE!" The name slipped from his lips without thinking, and his mentor froze in place. He had seen them too.

"Shit! Weasley, get your wand out, we have to go in! Signal the others!" Hugo's fingers had felt clumsy as he grasped blindly for the mahogany wand tucked in his robes. His sister had been eluding him since her wedding, and here she was right in front of him. It was clear that Rose had not seen or heard him; he was just as unimportant and invisible in the bright mid-afternoon sun as he usually seemed to be to her. As he uttered the incantation to summon back-up, the two fugitives quickly disapparated away.

"No! No, God Damnit!" Knight cursed loudly, punching the air violently with his fist as several of the aurors popped in around them.

"What's the word, Knight?" asked one of the new arrivals, warily glancing around to ensure the security of the scene.

"Weasley spotted Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley, just there, over by those pines. I caught a glimpse myself, they've only just disapparated." Five pairs of eyes slowly turned in Hugo's direction, and he felt roughly the size of a small mouse.

"This true, Weasley?" Lawrence Stroup, the senior most auror present, asked quickly as he advanced toward the shrieking shack.

"Yes, I've just seen her," Hugo replied, pointing vaguely. His heart felt like a million pound weight, thumping weakly against his chest. What a traitor he was turning out to be.

"Well done," Stroup commended, patting Hugo strongly on the back. "Why don't you go back to headquarters, and we'll get this taken care of. Signal Potter, will you? This is something he'll want to be involved with. "

Hugo nodded, grateful that Stroup had his wits about him. Knight was already descending on the scene, forgetting about his impressionable young student. He disapparated back to the office, where his uncle was nowhere to be found. Sitting down at his small desk, he mulled over some paperwork before burying his head in his hands and sighing loudly. Had it really been her? Maybe he was imagining things. There were a lot of tall lanky girls with brown curly hair in the world.

He'd closed up shop, returned home and mindlessly replayed the actions of his day before going to bed early.

* * *

And now here he was, perspiring heavily in the old oak chair in his supervisor's office, desperately wishing he could just go back home, go to sleep, and forget the day had ever transpired. Dark chocolate eyes peered at him, a bemused expression across her face. Ariyana Cariena was the most powerful woman inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, trumped in rank only by Hugo's father and Head Auror Harry Potter. She'd been an auror for eight years and was the department's fastest rising star since Harry Potter fifteen years before her. A master at interrogation techniques, she was damn good at her job and was able to get any information she desired from any number of subjects. The running joke around the office was that her substantial genetic endowments got her where she was, but Hugo knew she was brilliant and deserved every promotion awarded to her. She was usually a pleasant woman, but today she looked like a cougar, waiting to strike. Hugo gulped and stared at his hands. He was a pathetic mess.

"Hugo, are you alright?" The soft, soothing tone of her voice startled him and his head snapped up.

"Yes."

"I know this past week has not been easy for you. You've been through a lot of questioning, your loyalties have been examined and I know you must be both hurting and feeling violated. Hugo, you did the right thing yesterday. Your father would have done the same, he would be proud of you."

"My father, proud?" Hugo exploded suddenly, pushing his chair forcefully out of the way as he stood. "Rose is everything to my Dad! She broke his heart, broke it into a thousand pieces. Hell, she broke my heart. My family is in ruin, and her leaving was just the final nail in the coffin! My Dad wouldn't have turned her in. He would've run to her, grabbed her, and locked her in a basement to keep her away from Malfoy! I am so sick and tired of this, I don't know where she's going, I don't know where she's been, and as far as I'm concerned, she isn't even related to me anymore! I don't have a sister!"

"Are you finished now?" Cariena asked pointedly. "I do understand your exasperation with the situation, and as I've previously asserted, I am sorry that you have been thrust into this position. But let me be quite clear, Hugo. If you can't learn how to contain your emotions, to really immerse yourself in your work, then we're going to have a problem. There are a few different routes we can go with this. Would you please sit back down so we can discuss this professionally?"

Ashamed of his brash actions, Hugo repositioned his chair and sat down swiftly, sucking in a breath as he retained his composure.

"Here are your options. You can take a leave of absence and graduate with the next class, we can keep you in house doing paper work, or you can suck it up, rejoin the ranks, and throw yourself into your work. The decision is yours alone to make, but I caution you to truly take into account your feelings and responses. These outbursts of emotion absolutely will not be tolerated. That kind of behavior is exactly what will get you killed out in the field."

"Right. I would rather die than be reassigned to paper work, and the thought of going to spend hours lamenting with my father makes paper work sound like a dream job, so I'll stay where I am. "

"Good." Ariyana nodded toward the door. "Don't disappoint me. Potter wants to see you before you leave." Hugo nodded, feeling somewhat faint as he stood.

"Right. Thank you."

"And Hugo—eat something, would you? You look like you haven't eaten in days. I hope you don't expect to catch any criminals looking like a sixteen year old girl?" She smiled crookedly and it was oddly endearing. Hugo nodded once more, a wan smile painted across his lips, and he departed the office.

Two doors down, his uncle's ornate office awaited. The door was slightly ajar, and he knocked quickly before poking his head in. Looking particularly haggard, Harry sat crouched over in his desk, his hands massaging his temples vigorously. The wall behind his desk was made of plate glass, and the sun was shining brightly through it, despite the fact that the ministry was located underground. Every once in a while, though he'd been around magic his entire life, Hugo was mystified by the beauty of the things it could produce.

"Come in," Harry said roughly, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, Hugo, good. Have a seat."

"Uncle Harry," Hugo greeted, having a seat across from him. His uncle looked terrible; purple bags hung underneath his brilliant green eyes, giving him the appearance of a healthy looking inferi. His shaggy, unruly black hair stood out in contrast to his sallow skin. "You're looking…well."

"The hell I do!" Harry smiled wearily and cleared his throat. "We checked the scene thoroughly yesterday, and we've still got several people there today. It definitely appears that someone had been in the shrieking shack. There were foot prints leading up to back door, and it looks like the floor on the first level caved. Blood was found on some of the boards and the analysis shows that it is Rose's."

Hugo felt sick as he imagined his sister sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from lacerations across her limbs, desperately trying to escape from the situation. He wondered where her precious Scorpius had been at that moment.

"But why was she there in the first place?"

"Well that's what we don't know. Rose is a smart girl, you know that as well as I do. Going to that house was a stupid gamble, but there had to have been a reason. Hugo, may I speak directly to you in the strictest of confidences?"

The door swung shut with a flick of his wand, and the light in the room dimmed around them.

"Of course…"

"I need your word, Hugo. You must not repeat anything that I tell you, not to your family, or to your superiors, or anyone. This is a direct order from me. The information I am about to relay to you is top secret."

Hugo nodded hungrily, understanding that if this were any other case he would feel completely honored to be privy to such information. The circumstances surrounding the divulgence dampened any such feeling.

"Of course, Uncle Harry. You have my word."

Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes before beginning.

"Hugo, I think your sister was framed. I think the probability of Rose being guilty of murder is just as likely as your father declaring his allegiance to a quidditch team other than the Chudley Cannons. The evidence found on the scene was slim to none. There was no body found, Nate just disappeared. Rose was in a bad place, yes, and something definitely happened between them, and she was holding her wand clearly in the air, and eye witnesses swear they heard her utter the killing curse, but I just can't shake this feeling that there's something missing here. Today, in the shrieking shack, we found a room seemingly dedicated to Rose and Nate's relationship. There were pictures from our family outings, pictures of your cousins, of you, and some very compromising pictures of Rose and Nate. I wasn't aware they were ever an item, but they apparently were.

We found some brochures to different countries tucked in a chair, but the one that really struck our interest was one that had America, specifically Washington DC, marked with a red circle. We think he's run off, but we don't know why. I've barely had the chance to talk to Neville about this, he is absolutely heartbroken, and they are holding a memorial service for him tomorrow. But there is something else going on here, Hugo. I'm thinking about sending a team over to the American government in order to monitor the situation. And by team, I mean me and possibly one other person. And you."

"Me?" Hugo's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"You knew Nate. You grew up with him. You're emotionally compromised on account of Rose, but if he really is alive, don't you think you'd want to be the first to find him?"

"Hell yes." His voice was a low growl. "I always knew there was something off about him, even from the beginning."

"Well, I've offered this to you, and I know you're excited to accept, but I want you to go home and sleep on this one, Hugo. This isn't a mission to take lightly. Neville Longbottom is one of my best and oldest friends, and this situation must be handled delicately. Are you ready to accept that responsiblilty?"

"Yes." Harry smiled and sighed, sitting back in his chair.

"You know, Hugo, you remind me a little bit of myself when I was your age. Eager to prove myself, under different circumstances, you understand, but still. Through tragedy, greatness can be born. You go home and get some sleep."

"Right. Thanks, Uncle Harry. I'm happy you have allowed me to accept this opportunity. "

As Hugo stepped outside the door, he caught a glimpse of his Uncle once again bury his head into his hands.

* * *

The soft, sheer fibers of expensive silk fluttered erratically behind her as she paced in the ornate entranceway, awaiting her husband. The brief flirting before his departure had been in jest, but Astoria was proud of her husband, and the way he'd acted in front of the Weasleys. For all intents and purposes, Draco Malfoy had put up with a lot of unnecessary entanglements with the ministry throughout his lifetime, no doubt derived from the old biases of those in power. Astoria had watched him suffer on occasion, plagued by the curse of a once fabulously intimidating name, wishing there was something that could be done.

Everyone knew how Ronald Weasley felt toward her husband. They'd had it out in public a few times; drunken brawls here and there in their twenties, glares and angry whispers during Hogwarts functions, a particularly nasty dinner involving spilled wine at a restaurant in Diagon Alley. When Scorpius brought Rose home for the first time, Draco had stayed up for hours in their bedroom, hands curled painfully into tight fists, raging incoherently about how unfair it was that, of all the girls his son could possibly fancy, it had to be HER. Astoria had then persuaded her husband into docility, and soothingly reminded him that Scorpius was allowed to love whomever he pleased. Rose was a nice girl, and probably a good influence not just on their son, but for the Malfoy name.

It was in times like these when she was glad that she'd been two classes below her husband in school and was not directly involved in the drama that took place. She was able to view the entire feud between them with unbiased eyes, and understood the position that both men clung to so desperately. Draco had been a prat when he was younger, but Ron was not entirely innocent. Nor was his wife, who was brilliant but seemed to be lacking humility. Of course, Astoria had never directly spoken to her other than their brief exchange that evening. Though she'd found the intrusion into her night to be quite rude, it was unfair of her to judge Hermione. She seemed to be gutted at the thought of her daughter struggling. Any respect she'd had for them had been lost at their reaction to Rose and Scorpius's wedding, but she did empathize briefly with the dreadfully pathetic woman who wept on her couch only a few hours earlier.

And suddenly Astoria was reminded of the reason she'd been pacing in her dressing gown in the first place, and her stomach knotted once more in worry. Draco had been gone for nearly three hours, and Astoria had half a mind to disapparate to Monte Carlo. He'd sworn it wouldn't take long.

Was there something wrong with Scorpius? Was he hurt? Had Rose been found? Did they tie Draco to the murder? Would she ever see her family again? Would they come after her? What if Draco had run into trouble, and he'd been injured, and there was no one to find him, to make sure he was ok? What if there'd been an accident, and Scorpius was dead, or Rose, and Draco was stalling trying to figure out how to tell her?

Anxiety seeped slowly into her blood stream, and her heart rate began to race. Back and forth, back and forth she paced, the cadence of her feet slapping down against the bare floor providing the only sound through the house. Where was he? He knew she worried and often kidded her about it, but this was ridiculous.

Astoria Malfoy did not make a habit of crying; it was unbecoming and made her face look puffy. It wasn't because she believed she was above crying, or that other people who showed that emotion were below her. Rather, it was because crying made her feel uncomfortable and reminded her that she was just as vulnerable as everyone else. And as she felt the accumulation of tears cloud her vision, she cursed her foolishness and blinked them quickly away. It had truly only been three hours. Three short hours meant nothing in the folds of time.

Oh, the trouble that man was going to be in when he got home! She sighed, becoming more agitated as the tears continued to course down her cheeks. The tension swelled against the confines of her body, knotting her stomach more painfully with each shallow breath. Astoria brought a shaky arm to her head and let her tendrils loose, bobbing her head slightly as they fell. The grandfather clock in the sitting room chimed midnight, and the noise startled her. Where in the _hell _was he?

And just like that, he was in front of her, standing in the door way, his grey speckled blonde hair matted to his forehead. She turned sharply when she heard the sweet sound of his arrival.

"Astoria, I—"

"—where in the _hell_ have you been?" she asked piercingly, quickly hiding her eyes to wipe the tears before he could see. "It's been hours! I was worried sick!"

Draco looked down at the floor, sighing loudly.

"I know, love, I know. I'm sorry. I knew you'd be waiting—"

"You _knew_ I'd be waiting? And yet you take this long to come home to me? Draco, how could you? Where are Rose and Scorpius, are they ok, is everything alright? The places my mind has been tonight!"

"They are fine. They are both fine in Monte Carlo. They just made it back, actually. I arrived there before they did. I'll explain everything, Astoria, I just need to take a second to gather my thoughts. Go on into the bedroom and I'll be there momentarily."

"Draco! No, I refuse to be ordered around like this! Where have they been?"

"Astoria, please! Just go into the bedroom and sit down, and I'll be there in a second. I love you, my darling, and I understand your worry. As much as you try to hide it from me, I see that you've been crying, and I hate that it is my fault. But I need you to go sit down and wait, please."

Astoria stood inches from her husband, and she noted the deep frown lines that cut across his forehead and the dark bags framing his tired eyes.

"Fine, I'll wait."

She turned quickly on the balls of her feet and marched indignantly to the bedroom, where she waited while he washed his face and readied himself for bed. Upon emerging from the bathroom, she saw the seriousness of his gaze and knew the news was not good.

"Draco…what's happened?" she asked quietly, fingering the silver threads of their king sized comforter.

Draco let out a long and drawn out sigh before taking a seat next to his wife in their bed.

"Scorpius and Rose took a quick trip today. Decided it was prudent to visit Hogsmeade."

"_Hogsmeade_?" Astoria roared in rage. "Of all the places on earth that they could decide to go they chose the most dangerous place in all of wizarding Britain? They could have been seen…they could have been captured! What on earth was so important that they had to risk their lives and their freedom to visit_ Hogsmeade_?"

"They seemed to think that they would be able to find Nate hiding there, in the shrieking shack. I don't know what they were thinking, I tried to talk to Scorpius when they arrived back to the house in France, and they were both upset and combative. Astoria, I don't know what else to do, I feel absolutely helpless. I am so angry with their decisions, and yet I can't help but wonder if they were right in trying to find out what was going on. If it were me…I know I'd be there too. I wouldn't just sit around as other people tried to fight for my innocence. I'd be on the front lines, trying to prove it."

"You didn't tell them that, did you?"

"Of course not! I was angry as well, Scorpius and I exchanged words—"

"Oh, Draco, no…why must you constantly fight with him?"

"He's insolent, Astoria. He thinks he's right about everything, he won't take sound advice—"

"He's 24. He's still making mistakes. He's Rose's problem, and she can take care of him. I just don't know why you have to provoke him so. It's just a shame."

"They're leaving," Draco continued, ignoring his wife's pleas.

"Leaving?" Astoria's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as she met her husband's eyes. "What do you mean, leaving?"

Draco hung his head as he sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out through pursed lips.

"They want to go to America, Astoria. They think that this stupid Longbottom kid is over there. They think he's left to go do…I don't even know what, and I don't think they know either. They are being so stupid…so so stupid."

"America?" She felt her voice waiver slightly, and she quickly cleared her throat.

"You know, I never liked Neville Longbottom, not in all of my time at Hogwarts, not after Hogwarts, never. But he was never a bad person, I don't think. Ignorant and bumbling, yes. But this son of his…he is a piece of work. Honestly, I don't even know what's going on anymore, I just know that _my_ son is involved, and it is killing me…_killing me,_ Astoria…to sit here and watch."

"America. We'll never see them again, Draco. We can't protect them there. They'll be completely on their own."

"I know."

"Do Rose's parents know?"

"Of course not," he replied with an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to tell them either. They can live their semi-charmed life, happy lives, going about things as though nothing is wrong. They don't deserve to know where their daughter is."

He paused, and Astoria seized the opportunity to wrap her long, willowy arms around her husband's muscular frame. He inhaled the spiciness of her aroma smoothed down her long hair.

"It'll be alright, Love. S'alright. I'm not giving up on this yet."

She nodded into his chest. "Just as long as you don't leave me, Draco. Please don't go chasing them into America. They are of age, they can make their own decisions. But you, you belong here, with me. I know I'm strong, I know I have this image that I protect, but at the end of the day, I'm just yours. And I don't want to be left here day after day, twiddling my thumbs, pining away for you. I don't miss you, do you hear me? I never want to miss you."

"And you shall never have to." He kissed the top of her head, each of her eyelids, and then her lips, and she counted her blessings as though fully expecting to be left with nothing when tomorrow dawned across the horizon.

* * *

Hermione sat up and looked around, momentarily disoriented from the dreamless, intense sleep that had mercifully enveloped her during the night. Her hair was in disarray and her night gown was twisted as a result of the tossing and turning, but thankfully her sleep had been uninterrupted. Sunshine poured merrily through the window, and Hermione paid it no mind as she rubbed the sleep from her heavy eyes and stood up. She could hear the sound of cast iron pans clinking together in the kitchen as Molly cooked some type of fry up no doubt high in cholesterol and trans fats. She heard her husband's deep, scratchy voice moaning ridiculously about the aches and pains in his poor lower back, and the sound made her retch.

It had occurred to her that she was being a tad rude by insisting he stay on the couch to possibly wait for the highly unlikely arrival of their daughter, but the truth of the matter was, she just couldn't deal with him currently. He was constantly disgruntled and in poor spirits since the ministry had put him on temporary leave due to Rose's situation, and Hermione just didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with his childish demands.

Of course, she missed him, and the fact that she was distancing herself from him was absolutely gutting to her. But it didn't feel right to have him beside her, not when Rose was out there somewhere. There couldn't be happiness in such a time of unrest, anger, and abandonment. Sighing softly, she shook her head and walked to the bathroom, enticed by the hope and rejuvenation of a warm shower. As she stepped into the water, she heard him enter the room, heard the scraping of his feet on the bare wooden floor, and she closed her eyes and prayed he would leave.

"Hermione?" he called, softly, tapping several times on the door.

"I'm in the shower, Ron. I'll be out in a bit," she half-heartedly replied. She heard the high pitched squeal of the old doorknob and the creak and groan of the door as he pushed it open. "Ron!" she whined, exasperation clouding her voice.

"Hey," he said quietly, leaning his head against the wall next to the shower.

"Hi," was her short reply.

"I miss you."

It was simple, it was true, and it enraged her.

"I'm here all the time, Ron. How can you possibly miss me?" She could hear his sharp intake of air as he struggled with the quick temper that had nearly always plagued his social interactions.

"Because," the reply started through clenched teeth, "I'm sleeping in the Goddamn living room, Hermione. You are my wife, and I love you. And I miss you, even though we are in the same house."

"Language," she whispered, her eyes gazing at the steady flow of water gliding quickly down the drain.

"_My wife_, Hermione. We have children together. And just because one is…just because what's going on is happening right now, that doesn't mean I love you any less. You are still the woman I want to be with forever. I made that promise to you, and it is still true today. I love you, baby. Let me love you."

She felt barricaded by the shower curtain and the wall. She could easily trace the outline of his looming shadow with her eyes, watching his head drop suddenly as he waited for her reply.

"I…I…have to go to work soon, Ron."

"Fuck work."

He was there suddenly, in the shower with her, fully clothed, looking scruffy and unkempt. The water soaked through his shirt within seconds, and she was taken aback by his actions. "Let me love you, Hermione. Let me love you."

His hand grazed the curve of her shoulder, and her instant reaction was recoil. However, she stood in the center of the shower, her hair hanging in wet, tight ringlets, and allowed him to caress the moist skin of her arm, her back, her face. She let him kiss the nape of her neck, her collarbone, her forehead. His lips found hers, and they were soft and familiar and warm, and she wanted to give in to him. She wanted his arms around her, she wanted the joy he used to bring her, she wanted anything but what she had. Then she was against the wall of the shower, and he was there with her, trying desperately to forget the pain and sorrow from the stress of Rose's abdication. Together they were one, like they always had been, and yet Hermione had never felt more isolated from him. Her tears blended in with the water.

* * *

_**A/N**: You may be sitting here going…what the crap? I know. No Rose or Scorpius in this chapter. It was more filler than anything else, I know. It's really getting away from a Rose Scorpius, and more about relationships, isn't it? Next chapter, we'll be meeting Neville and his wife and the "funeral" and looking a little bit more into the life of Rose and Scorpius on the run. Thank you very much for reading, please review, and LOOK how fast I got this chapter up! Win! Also, was beta'd by my good friend, **Squallywrath** so a big thank you to him! Also, make sure you go to harry potter podcast dot com for all you harry potter podcasting needs! _


	7. Chapter 7

**VII. Fisticuffs**

_By LovlyRita_

* * *

Besides the few times her family had decided to take their car out into London, Rose had never really had a reason to use muggle transportation. It was rare that she had anywhere to travel in the muggle world during her childhood, and even then it was often easier to use portkeys or floo powder. Standing inside the Heathrow Airport in London was an entirely new experience to her, and her eyes darted quickly back and forth as she watched busy travelers zip quickly through the corridors to their destinations. Scorpius was inwardly just as nervous as Rose appeared to be, but he attempted to keep his apprehension hidden so as to calm his wife. The plan seemed to be unfolding nicely, but he was waiting for things to be shaken up for the worst at any moment.

They were to catch a flight from London to Washington Dulles airport in Virginia. They could then disapparate into the heart of Washington DC and find the wizarding underground located there. The plan was flimsy at best, but options were limited. Even though he had fiercely justified his reasons for this impromptu trip across the ocean, his beliefs were mostly in staunch defense of his wife. There had never been any reason for Scorpius to even fathom leaving the copious comforts of his home country. Travelling was something that those with money and status did, and given the events of his father's childhood and adolescence, the Malfoy family seemed to prefer the cocoon of familiarity built around them, rather than branch out into the wide world of unknown.

One thing he did seem to like as people streamed by him was the divine feeling of anonymity. Even though they were still on British soil, none of these people seemed to be actively searching for a rogue witch and wizard on the run. They were too busy with their morning coffees and newspapers, yapping quickly on their mobiles or wrangling children up in preparation for boarding. No one even paid them a second glance, and it was a most welcome feeling.

Rose was somewhat knowledgeable about muggle money, and with a disfigurement charm, she was able to change some of their galleons and sickles into British Pounds and American Dollars before leaving France, in a specialized wizarding village not far from the vacation home. Scorpius's father had supplemented their small supply, and had given them several pieces of well received advice before returning home the night before. Now she stood with the British bills in her hands, and they felt unnatural and foreign to her, even though they were the currency of her country.

The lady at the ticket counter greeted the two with a large smile.

"Two tickets to America please." Her voice was loud and confident as she spoke, as though she traveled to the country frequently for business and pleasure.

"And where would you like to go in America?" The woman's voice seemed strained, as though the question had annoyed her in some way.

"We'd like to go to Washington DC. Dulles Airport, on the next available flight." The woman typed swiftly on the computer in front of her, her manicured fingernails inducing a piercing click with every movement.

"I don't have anything until 5 PM. Will that be alright?"

"You have nothing else?" She asked.

"No. You could fly into New York, if you'd like. There you could catch a connecting flight to…" she paused as her fingers continued to move across the keyboard, "Baltimore Washington International. If you wish to wait longer, there's a flight directly into Washington DC from New York at Ronald Reagan International, but if you choose that you might as well just wait for the one to Dulles. If you take the first option, you would be arriving there about five hours earlier."

Rose's eyes peered at Scorpius, nearly begging him to make the decision for her.

"We'll take the earlier one, that's fine."

The cost of the two tickets was staggering, catching Rose completely off guard. Counting out the bills one by one, they just barely had enough money to cover it. The representative behind the counter watched her count slowly, seemingly annoyed that the two of them did not have one of the plastic thin cards to swipe in the fancy muggle machine.

"Do you have any luggage?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Rose replied, following suit with everyone else around her by sticking their red suitcase up on a scale. They'd placed a charm on it to shrink all their belongings, so they had as much with them as possible.

"Traveling lightly, I see," the woman said under her breath. "Ten pounds. Enjoy your flight." She handed the tickets to the couple and instructed them that they would need their identification again later. They walked away, Rose gripping Scorpius's hand tightly, and made their way toward the security line.

"So where are we going again?" she asked.

"New York City. Then, we're catching a connecting flight to Baltimore Washington International. We'll be able to disapparate from there, love. "

"Scorpius…" Rose trailed off as she stopped in the middle of the busy hall. She turned to face her husband, her eyes swimming with the fear that she'd been trying to strangle ever since escaping prison. "I'm scared."

"I am too, baby. We don't have to do this, not if you don't want to. We can leave, we can get out of the country anywhere…anywhere you want to go. We'll start a new life. We don't have to go to America to look for him." He smoothed down her hair as he watched the crystal tears spill from her eyes

"I'm not guilty. It's not fair for me to live my life as a recluse because of something I didn't do. He's alive, and I have to find him, and I know he's in Washington, I just know. I don't know why I know…" She cleared her throat and swiped her hand quickly under her eyes. "Come on, let's go. I want to get where we're going."

Going through the security line was a pain, especially since they had to remove their shoes and Scorpius kept setting the stupid big boxy alarm off. He was searched, and Rose uttered a quick spell to shield his wand so the officer who was searching him didn't find it.

By half six in the morning, they had boarded their plane and buckled themselves in. American accents filled the aircraft as several businessmen boarded and sprinkled themselves around the couple. The thought of leaving the ground made Rose uneasy, but she forced her eyes shut and gripped Scorpius's hand tightly, happy for the brief moment to herself.

Scorpius, on the other hand, was pale white, and perspiration was beginning to soak through his clothes. In comparison to the exposure Rose had gained to muggle society, Scorpius was relatively uninformed. The thought of the plane leaving the ground for him was akin to the thought of someone recognizing them as fugitives. He was thoroughly terrified. It simply wasn't natural to expect a humongous muggle-made death trap to lithely take flight without care and transport him safely across the ocean to America. Of course, there were ways for wizards to travel across oceans, port keys being one of them, but all wizard modes of travel were being watched. It seemed, rather ironically, that his pristine Malfoy heritage and immaculately pure blood would be resting in the hands of muggles, if only for a short time.

He snuck a glance toward her, hoping for an overwhelming sense of calm at seeing her beautiful face. A brief flicker of adoration swept through him as he gazed at her before it was brutally maimed to bloody nothingness by the monstrous amount of terror coursing through his veins. Painfully slowly, he turned his head toward the window and watched the crew on the tarmac carelessly throw luggage into the bowels of the plane. The aircraft was becoming increasingly more crowded, and a portly gentleman carrying a briefcase and a copy of a popular English tabloid now occupied the aisle seat.

Scorpius had never felt more trapped in his entire life, not even when he'd been locked in a broom closet with a particularly vindictive jilted lover in his 6th year at Hogwarts. He saw a rather homely looking brunette flight attendant with horridly crooked teeth shoved awkwardly into her nearly non-existent gums standing at the front of the plane, holding up a brochure. He located the same brochure in the back pocket of the seat in front of him, and followed intensely, memorizing every intonation from the woman's Australian accent.

"In the event that we experience a loss of cabin pressure, masks will drop from the ceiling. Please secure your own mask before helping anyone else secure their masks. In the event of an emergency, your seat cushion can be used as a floatation device…"

A floatation device? Scorpius swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. Oh i_hell_/i no. No way in blackest hell would he and Rose be anywhere i_near_/i the plane if it started to go down. He didn't care if they disapparated and ended up in Iceland or Canada or some foreign place with aborigines, there was no one on the face of the Earth who would make him turn some shoddily made cushion into a floating device. He didn't care who saw them, they'd be gone, end of discussion. Despite this, he continued to pay rapt attention to the woman until the end of her spiel, when she abandoned her post to safely strap into her own floatation device.

The plane roared to life then, making Scorpius's skin crawl. Rose cracked her eye open, squeezed her husband's hand, and then resumed the thorough examination of the backs of her eyelids. As the aircraft joined the queue in preparation for liftoff, Scorpius finally squeezed his own eyes shut, clutching the safety brochure as well as a sick bag, just in case. It was going to be a very long flight.

* * *

He knew the spot next to him was empty even before he opened his eyes. She had predictably risen at least thirty minutes before he stirred in order to shower and apply her make-up, and was probably several seconds away assuring her husband was awake. He grunted before she got the chance, rolling over to his left and burying his head in the pillow.

"Morning. You'll want to get up soon, love. Lily and Al are going to be here soon, and I really do want to be on time for the funeral. I picked out your formal robes from the closet."

It was still the sweetest voice he'd ever heard, even if it was a little bossy and self-serving from time to time.

"Thanks, babe. Good morning to you." Harry pushed himself up out of bed and swung his legs over the side. The floor was icy cold despite the warm spring temperatures outside. He stretched, feeling his shoulder and lower back joints pop loudly with movement. He stood slowly, wincing at the brief shock of pain in his knees before ambling to the bathroom. It was still steamy from Ginny's shower, and he clumsily reached with his left hand to turn the damp knob, initiating a steady stream of water.

It was the morning of Nathan Longbottom's memorial service. Calling it a funeral would be a disservice to the deceased everywhere. Harry rubbed shampoo into his unruly hair, feeling the dread slide slowly into his stomach until it felt like a lead weight there. Of course he was going to support one of his oldest friends, but the truth of the matter was, he just didn't think that Nathan was actually dead.

"Hurry, dear! Lily's just arrived!" He heard Ginny say as she checked herself in the mirror, which allowed him the opportunity to sneak a glance at her modest black dress before she left the room. She still looked radiant after all these years, after enduring the rocky years after the last wizarding war and then raising three children together. She would always be the woman of his dreams, and he could never even possibly begin to dream of being with anyone other than her.

After his shower, Harry quickly dressed and slapped on some aftershave before heading downstairs for a quick bite to eat before the service. Lily was sitting on the couch, her vibrant auburn hair tied up elegantly, stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose.

"Dad!" She said, standing to greet him. It had been several weeks since he'd seen his baby girl. She worked diligently with a privately owned firm conducting research on the creation of new potions to help heal the sick, and was often away on business. She'd only been with the company a year or two and was currently paying her dues at the bottom of the totem pole, but he'd never been happier for her, not even when she became head girl at Hogwarts.

"Lily," he smiled, wrapping her in a warm hug. "I missed you! How is work?"

"Oh, same old. Going to Ireland next week to look at some interesting plant findings. Lots of traveling as always. I never thought I would get so cultured after studying alchemy. "

"Well, that's ok, I'm just glad you're happy with your job. Seen your brother yet?" He asked, making his way toward the kitchen.

"Not yet, He'll be around I'm sure." Harry nodded at his daughter before grabbing a muffin. He plopped down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, lazily unfolding The Daily Prophet which had been previously untouched. He bit into the muffin, relishing the taste of banana nut, before nearly choking on it.

The headline on the newspaper shouted at him: **"_DOUBTS RAISED ABOUT CERTAINTY OF LONGBOTTOM'S DEATH:_**_ Lack of Evidence May Exonerate Malfoy."_ Rose's mugshot stared out at him, and below the picture was a smaller headline that read, _"But If He's Not Dead, Where Is He?"_

Great. Not only was he going to have to go to this painful memorial service where there was clearly nothing to remember, but then he was going to have to spend the rest of his day off answering questions from the press and the rest of his team. Sighing, he folded the paper to read later, and downed the rest of his muffin. He saw Ginny run down the stairs seconds before hearing the familiar pop signaling the arrival of his son. It was too much to think about at the moment. He had an image to uphold, after all.

* * *

As the family arrived at the Longbottom's estate, Harry felt his grip tighten around Ginny's strong hand. It seemed as though the morning's headline had not kept away the crowds, as the most famous and well known wizards in Britain had turned out for the event. Nate was, first and foremost, the son of one of the most revered war heroes of the time, and everyone wanted to pay their respects.

The Longbottom's garden was manicured and set with rows of chairs. The finish on the empty oak casket glistened in the sunlight as people filed by, their heads tilted downward to pay their respect for the boy whose absent corpse was glaringly suspicious. The sight of it all made Harry sick.

He had known someone else once who had faked his own death for selfish and dishonorable reasons. As much as the tattered, dusty old memories hurt as they resurfaced, Harry could not help but think of Peter Pettigrew. He had once done the same thing he suspected Neville's son of doing, except Pettigrew destroyed other lives in the process. There was nothing left of Nathan. He had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Surveying the crowd, Harry let his mind wander to the night before, when he had poured through the case, trying to align all the facts.

First of all, Rose and Nathan had been together at a pub, conversing unremarkably. Several rounds of alcohol had been consumed by both parties, resulting in intoxication. Eventually the exchange had grown heated, and Rose had threatened Nate with her wand. Scorpius had entered shortly before the supposed act had occurred. Witnesses report seeing him with his wand drawn as well, but the general consensus was that Rose had been one to inflict the "killing curse." After careful research, it had been concluded that the local townspeople had seen Rose whisper something and then the pub had been enveloped in blackness. Soon after, there were several flashes of light, and Longbottom was mysteriously gone. Rose was left, looking bewildered, repeating incessantly that she had murdered him. When the aurors had arrived at the scene, they found Rose in the center of the room, but she was wandless. Because of this, the aurors were unable to perform a priori incantantem charm, that would have proven Rose definitively guilty or innocent. It would also appear that Scorpius had disappeared from the scene as soon as the aurors had arrived. He was unable to be located after they'd taken his wife into custody. Not long after her first court appearance, Rose broke from her prison cell and, after being spotted at the Shrieking Shack, her location was unknown. As for Longbottom, if he wasn't dead, then he was very good at hiding. His wand had been left at the scene, he had not performed any wizard travel, and the muggle airports had no record of him. He was, by all intents and purposes, gone.

The original claims of his death were a gross misjudgment substantiated on very little fact, but what other choice was there?

Harry's concentration was broken by the sight of his son, James, hand in hand with girl he'd never seen before. Her blonde hair flowed in wide ringlets down to the small of her back, and her cornflower blue eyes sparkled in the sun. Though she was lovely, Harry was more concerned with the look on his son's face. James and Nathan had been close over the years, and James looked devastated as he skirted the side of the Longbottom's sprawling country estate to meet his family. His dark hair was tamed in a way that Harry's could never hope to be, and he wore long black formal robes despite the balmy mid-morning temperatures.

Ginny released Harry's hand and made her way over to James, wrapping him in a large hug. His other two children followed suit, and Harry figured he ought to as well, to keep up appearances.

"I can't believe he's gone," James said, his face twisted in grief.

"I know, dear," Ginny soothed quietly, patting her oldest son's shoulder. "Who is this lovely lady?"

"This is Annaliese Covington. We've been seeing each other for a while, she's been keeping me sane ever since this happened."

"Hello," she said politely, and Harry's head snapped up immediately. Her voice had a quiet, musical, American quality to it. _American._

"You're an American?" Harry blurted out suddenly, earning him a stern glance from his wife.

"Yes, I am."

"Whereabouts?"

"The east coast," she replied, a nervous smile blossoming on her painted lips.

"That's fascinating. You're a long way away from home! What brings you here?" Harry asked curiously.

"Dad, seriously, calm down. Let's get through this and then we can play twenty questions," The irritation was evident in James's voice.

"Right, sorry, James. Welcome to England, Annaliese. Let's find our seats," Harry said, quickly redirecting his thoughts.

The service, ridiculous as its purpose may have been, was done beautifully. Neville, dressed in fine onyx dress robes, looked nothing like the Gryffindor who was known for decapitating Voldemort's snake Nagini and helping bring peace to the wizarding world. His general features had been chiseled by Hogwarts and the stresses of teaching young students about the wonders of plant life. His face was still friendly and welcoming, but his eyes were clouded and unreadable as he spoke of his only child, a son who was the light of his mother's eye. A quidditch player, well-loved at Hogwarts. So many friends, so many memories, vanished.

His heart lurched painfully as Harry fondly remembered much simpler times when his children were still small and bursting with the promises of youth. Nathan would come around often and stay for dinner with his children, Ron's children, and little Teddy Lupin. Best friends with Luna and Rolf's kids. Full of hope and life, the lot of them.

Speaking of the Scamander family, Harry scanned the crowd and easily found Luna, her long hair now dually tinted with her familiar dull blonde hue at the bottom and a fresh sprinkling of silver near her roots. Rolf sat next to her, his hair already a flat shade of gray. When had everyone grown so old?

To Harry's great surprise, he saw Ron and Hermione seated three rows in front of him. He had not expected them to show up given the circumstances, but he was not surprised by the amount of compassion and empathy they exhibited by attending. Hermione sat with perfectly erect posture, her hair wrapped in a strict French twist. Ron was slumped forward beside her, his shoulders visibly tensed, and Hugo rounded out the broken family, his head buried deeply within the confines of his hands.

Sobs rang out from the front of the service, and Hannah Abbott, Neville's wife, was crouched on the ground, sickly thin wails issuing from her tired lungs. Neville's eulogy had finished, and the crowd sat quietly as he vacated his post at the podium to calm his hysterical wife. It was terribly tragic, but almost funny in a way. There was not even the tiniest sliver of doubt in Harry's mind that Nate was alive. It pained him to see his friends' agony, but Harry had very nearly had enough of it. Without warning, he stood and avoided his wife's questioning gaze as he shuffled through the aisle and toward the house.

Toward the side of the property, there was an old swing that was constructed to overlook a beautiful garden of wildflowers that Hannah had been tending to since they moved into the house when Nate had been very young. It was a lovely area, perfect for digesting particularly worrisome thoughts.

What piece was he missing? A brochure found in the Shrieking Shack for Washington DC, hundreds of pictures depicting his happy family life and questionable situations with Rose. It was almost like Nate wanted to be found, like he had specifically planned someone to follow him. But who? Certainly not the aurors; even the dumbest criminals were usually smart enough not to leave blatant trails. Given the arrangement of the pictures, it almost appeared as if he wanted Rose to pick up the trail, but she was supposed to be incarcerated. If he wanted her to find him, he should have thought of a different way to off himself that didn't involve taking her freedom in the cheesiest and most oddball way possible.

Of course there was the chance that Rose had been involved the entire time, and that they had planned the operation in cahoots. Maybe it was a clever ploy to leave Scorpius and run away with Nate. But then, why put her whole family in jeopardy by loudly proclaiming her undying love for the supposedly reformed Malfoy family? In addition, they'd been spotted at the Shrieking Shack together, so this option was most likely not plausible.

Harry had briefly remembered Nate having a crush on Rose in their youth; he'd follow her around like a puppy, and she had brushed him off as a mere annoyance. He returned this sentiment as they got older, and Harry remembered the strain it put on some of her cousins as they had to choose between her and Nate, James' best friend. Apparently at some point they had come together with a truce, or so the graphic pictures suggested in the shrieking shack. Harry wondered if they had been doctored in some way, but he was unsure.

The sick feeling that had invaded him earlier returned as he considered his own children's possible involvement with Nate. Had he confided anything in James, any sort of plotting that might give clues. Harry knew it was the responsible thing to do, interrogating his children, but there was no way he would be able to do it himself. Removing Ron from his team had made sense at the time, but now he was beginning to realize his own emotional involvement. In order to stay on the case, he would absolutely have to give the order to have his children questioned, and perhaps James's pretty little American friend as well.

"Harry?" he heard the edge in his wife's voice as Ginny approached. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he replied dismissively.

"The funeral is over. I know you've got a lot on your plate with the case and everything, but we really need to say a few words to Neville before leaving.

Harry sighed and stood, feeling remorse at the thought of leaving his thinking post.

"How are the kids dealing?" He asked, joining her for the walk back.

"James is still a mess, of course. Al is taking it in stride, and Lily is strangely detached from the whole thing. They're talking to Hugo right now. I really wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione before they left but I haven't seen them in a few minutes."

"There they are," Harry replied, gesturing in Neville's general direction. They were in line to speak with the Longbottoms.

"My God," Ginny said, squeezing Harry's hand as they made their way to the line. "They must really be trying to make things right. I can't even imagine what it must be like. They won't let me in at all. I've tried several times to contact both of them, it's like they just shut themselves off from the rest of the world." Harry nodded as he watched the Weasleys move to the front of the queue.

Neville's face was stony as he accepted Ron's handshake. Harry couldn't make out the exchange, but he could tell that it was halted and unfriendly. Hermione's frown stretched widely across her face, and Hannah looked generally uncomfortable as tears continued to leak from the corners of her eyes.

"Look at them," Ginny whispered in his ear, sending shivers down the back of his neck. He hated whispering, it was a lifelong effect from the war and having a foreign voice inside his head.

"It's the most awkward thing I've ever seen," Harry replied quietly. He averted his eyes, trying not to pry into the conversation of two very well-known couples, each dealing with a horrendous loss.

What occurred in the seconds that followed, Harry never learned. All he knew for certain was that a woman screamed loudly and he heard the sickening sound of a fist colliding harshly with bone. Harry's head whipped sharply around and noted that Neville was holding his hand, his eyes narrowed into slits so tiny he resembled a snake.

_"What the Fuck, Neville!"_ Ron shrieked, holding the spot on his cheek that Neville had just introduced to his fist. Copious amounts of blood poured from his nose.

"Get off my property!" Neville screamed in return.

"Come on, Ron! Come on!" Hermione urged, trying to pull her husband away from the fight. But, never one to give up lightly, Ron lunged at Neville, growling in anger as he approached, seemingly forgetting that he was in possession of a wand. "RON!" She yelled again.

Hannah collapsed on the ground once more, gravity openly accepting her tears.

"There is no_ proof_!" Ron yelled, suddenly remembering he was a wizard. He brandished his wand in seconds, and Neville followed suit.

"There's enough! She was imprisoned, wasn't she? For the murder of imy/i son. Who knows what those Malfoys taught her."

_"Don't you dare bring them into this!_" Ron spat angrily, moving toward Neville. A small crowd was beginning to gather, but they stayed deathly silent.

"Don't you for a minute think I haven't heard the rumors. She hasn't been around for months. Who iknows/i the things she has seen, what she has done! "

_"DON'T!"_

"_My son is dead!_ Your daughter has ruined my family, and has created her own mess! Now get the hell off my property!"

"Ron! For Merlin's sake! Don't!" Hermione screeched, attempting to pull on Ron's arm. Harry had seen enough, and quickly ran to the defense of his oldest friend.

"Ron. Lower your wand. Come on." Ron continued to snarl at Neville, keeping his wand raised. He looked wild against the backdrop of a brilliant spring day, blood running down his face. "Ron!"

"Dad?" It was the only voice that could have broken through the tension, the only one that had any chance of startling Ron from his wild streak of anger. He looked over into Hugo's face, which was contorted in confusion and sadness. "Dad, just stop. Let's go home."

The two old Gryffindor housemates and friends continued to stare each other in the eye as both lowered their wands.

"Go home with your son, Ron. Enjoy being with him. While you still have something to hold on to."

Hugo walked forward and grabbed his father's arm, dragging him away from the altercation. Hermione's eyes were dry as she solemnly nodded toward Neville and followed her family before they disapparated away from the scene. Neville looked over at Harry, making brief but significant eye contact, and announced that the event was over, and that he and his wife wanted to grieve in peace.

Harry turned to rejoin his family, who were standing a few yards away, clearly shocked at the turn of events. After slowly nodding to his wife, the six of them, including Annaliese, disapparated back to the house to discuss the turn of events. Harry had never been so proud of his nephew, but he had also never been so relieved to have his entire family together and safe. He had no idea what the future held in store for his niece, nor did he understand the motive and reasoning behind Nathan's disappearance. What he did know was that all of his babies were under one roof, and he vowed that nothing would cross his mind while in their company.

* * *

Please check harry potter fan fiction for the rest of my stories under the same pen name, as well as harry potter podcast for some great stories read aloud as well as some other great content. ~LovlyRita


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